The Elite
by White-Knight-1988
Summary: In the present day, a team of elite men and women has been formed to combat that which cannot be stopped through standard means. This is their story...
1. Dragon

_**Title: The Elite**_

_**Chapter One – "Dragon"**_

_**Original Posting Date: August 30, 2009**_

_**A/N: Yeah, I know, another new one. Firstly, just a little background information before we get started; this is a completely AU for Power Rangers and, in certain ways, Flashpoint. Many of the characters and locations from the PRU are the same, but there will be no spandex suits, rubber monsters, floating heads, or giant robots, just real people who have found their calling in defending the defenseless.**_

_**A/N 2: In regards to my other stories in progress, here is where things stand. "Never Say Never" is on the shelf for now, mostly due to Chris and me not agreeing on some things in regards to the story. Also, I have three more chapters of "European Adventure" already finished, so I will continue to post those in the coming weeks, and hopefully be able to knock out a few more chapters as well. Due to some unfortunate life events, I just needed to express some things in a way that wasn't super lighthearted like "European Adventure." Hopefully you'll enjoy this temporary change to something a bit more serious.**_

--

"JASON!" yelled the bald, black man, beating the horn of his car he sat in parked outside number seventeen, Josephine Street. Josephine was located in a quiet neighborhood near Angel Grove's city limits: it was middle class; the houses were neither small nor overly large; and the lawns were all well kept. Overall, it was a fairly nice place to live.

Inside the house, a Caucasian man of average height with a muscular build and closely cropped brown hair snatched a piece of bacon from the boy across from him, who had been locked in conversation with his mother behind him, and thus not monitoring his breakfast. The mop-headed boy of eight years old with dirty blonde hair turned around just in time to watch his dad bite the bacon.

"Hey, I saw that!" the boy exclaimed defensively.

"You snooze, you lose," replied his father, a twenty-nine year old called Jason Scott. The horn blared again and Jason quickly rose to his feet. "Alright, I gotta go. That's my ride."

Standing in a very small kitchen behind their young son was Katherine Scott, a blonde haired, blue eyed beauty wearing a magenta dress. She had her hands on the countertop and was staring at her husband, looking none too pleased. "I don't understand. You knew about this," she said, with the faintest hint of an Australian accent, all that was left after nearly fifteen years living in the United States.

"Tell your folks I wish I could make it, I really do," said Jason, snagging one last piece of bacon as he approached his nine years. "It's just…I don't have a choice. It's this thing for Bryan. It's his retirement."

Katherine rolled her eyes. "It's my parent's thirtieth wedding anniversary and you've known about it for months. Mike, Carol, and the kids are flying in from out of state —"

"I know, I know," said Jason defensively. "But I can't miss this retirement thing, sweetheart. Bryan's been on the force for damn near forty years. He's one of the best cops I know and if it wasn't for him —"

"I know, I know," interjected Katherine semi-mockingly. "If it wasn't for him you would have been dead a long time ago. I get it. I just…Dad wanted to show you off a little, Chris's band is playing…"

"Look, Kat, anniversaries happen every year; retirements happen once," said Jason, holding up his pointer finger. "I just can't miss this. I'm sorry."

"What are they going to do, pin him to the wall and nail him with rubber bullets?" asked Katherine sarcastically.

Jason chuckled. "I gotta go. I love you," he replied, placing a quick kiss to his wife's cheek as he turned for the door where his son, Alex, was waiting with a black duffel bag in hand. "Later kiddo," said Jason, taking the duffle bag and throwing it over his shoulder, ruffling Alex's hair for a moment before pulling him into a quick hug.

"I wish I didn't have to go to Grandma and Grandpa's stupid party," muttered Alex, kicking the hardwood floor with the toe of his Converse tennis shoe. "Why are you always the one to get out of stuff like this?"

"Because _I_ have a cool job," answered Jason, smiling. "I know you don't want to do it, but between you and me, deal with tonight and we'll go grab a Dodgers game soon, ok?"

"You mean it?" said Alex. Yes, his father's job certainly was cool, especially to an eight year old boy, but it also had meant lots of broken promises and missed events growing up.

"I promise," said Jason, and though promises had lost some of their effect over the years, Alex still grinned wildly. "Alright, now get out of here and go finish getting ready for school, okay?" he continued, as the horn outside wailed once more. "Jesus, can't he just use his cell phone?" he muttered, shaking his head. Pulling the door open, he turned back to his son, who was already halfway up the stairs, and yelled, "Love ya, kiddo!"

"Love you too, Dad!" shouted Alex without looking back.

Smiling, Jason turned back around and stepped into the cool morning air of Southern California during winter time. Taking a deep breath of fresh air, he leapt over his wife's perfectly manicured garden and onto the lawn, avoiding the path around altogether. He continued on to the silver Chevrolet Trailblazer parked at the curb, pulled the door open, and hopped inside.

"You do know I would have left your ass a long time ago if you weren't Zeke's second, right?" said the man seated behind the wheel.

Jason laughed and nodded. "Thanks for picking me up, Zack; the car's out of the shop tomorrow."

"No worries, Chief," said Zack, as they pulled away from the house. Though Jason was not the Chief of anything, it had been Zack's nickname for him ever since he had joined the team four years prior.

Zachary Taylor, Zack to his family and friends, was a twenty-eight year old success story if there ever was one. He had grown up in a gang heavy neighborhood in Oakland, and for nearly eight years had been a gang member himself. Then, at twenty-two years of age, he saw the proverbial light. He moved his mother and younger sister out of town and, having never been arrested for or convicted of any of his prior crimes, was able to enroll in Los Angeles's Police Academy.

He had not looked back since.

--

Several miles away, on a subway train hurtling beneath the streets of Los Angeles, an older, balding man and a teenager stood holding onto the rail bars for support. It was clear from first look that they were father and son. The father seemed distracted, lost in thought, but the son, who could only see the side of his father's face, clearly did not notice this, smiling and laughing as he continued to chat away in what was obviously an Eastern European language.

Suddenly, the train slowed as an automated female voice announced over the loudspeaker, _"Now approaching Wilshire and Vermont. Now approaching Wilshire and Vermont." _Without a word, the father spun around and pulled his son into a fierce hug.

"Papa?" murmured the boy, audibly confused as he hugged his father in return.

The father then kissed his son on the cheek and hastily ushered him off of the train, staring through the window and into a face that was so very much his own, until at last the train began to pull away.

--

Back across town, Zack and Jason had just pulled into an empty parking space in front of an unmarked, fifteen-story building that appeared to be in a field in the middle of nowhere. They were mid-conversation as they clambered out of Zack's SUV, both carrying black duffel bags emblazoned with the letters _S.R.T. _in big, white, block letters on either side.

"So what'd you think?" said Zack.

"Told him not to waste my time," answered Jason, now wearing a pair of dark Aviator sunglasses as they started through the parking lot. "The Bremler didn't live up to specs."

"Really?" said Zack, both thoughtfully and surprised.

"Hey, Danny!" yelled Jason, to a dark haired man in his mid-thirties who had just climbed out of a gold Toyota Camry.

"Hey, hey, hey!" said Danny Parker, grabbing his own duffel bag from the trunk of his car before closing the door and joining the other two men.

"Boss let him try out the new Bremler yesterday," said Zack, to Danny.

"Oh yeah?" replied Danny. "What'd you think of that double trigger?"

"Shit, she's jam all the way," muttered Jason, as they approached the building. "She's a sweet looking piece, but there's no way I'd trust her with my ass on the line."

At that point, Jason noticed two black wires hanging in front of the front door to the building, and looked up to see two people in gray pants, matching long sleeved shirts, and full black body armor rappel lightning fast to the ground. Laughing, he shook his head at them as he approached and said, "All sass; no class!"

"Well that's a good match for you; all brawn and no brain," said the one on the right, a young brunette woman wearing a black baseball cap, smiling as she began to disengage herself from her rappelling gear. She had come down first. Beneath the strap of her vest was a nametag, but only the first three letters — _K. HA_ — could be read.

"Oh, that's funny," said Jason, leading the three man approach to the door just as it opened from inside.

Another man stood in the entryway — wearing a similar gray uniform and black cap, but with no body armor — stepping aside to let the three men in as he addressed the two that had just rappelled fourteen stories. "You guys understand the world of pain I get thrown into every time the windows need cleaning, right?"

The woman smiled apologetically. "Sorry, Sarge," she replied.

"Yeah, sorry, Sarge," said the other one, a young man with brown, almond shaped eyes and short black hair that was barely visible beneath his hat. The three viewable letters on his nametag were _A. PA_.

Nodding, the man they had called Sarge, whose full name — _Z. Ordon_ — could be read on his own nametag, returned inside. Once he was gone, the woman turned to her rappelling companion with a victorious smile and said, "What's the matter, Adam, you get stuck up there? Want to go double or nothing?"

"No, Kim, I don't," said Adam, chuckling.

Back inside, Sergeant Ordon had just caught up to Jason as they walked through a rather plain hallway. "So who won out there?"

"Who do you think?" said Jason, laughing as he threw his bag over his shoulder. "She kicks his ass every time. So what's the daily special?"

Smiling, Sergeant Ezekiel "Zeke" Ordon, a bald, stocky, shorter-than-average man nodded and said, "Bread and butter; narcotics has a bust in Valencia."

"Oh yeah, who's score?" said Jason, as they descended a three-step staircase.

"Jameson's," answered Zeke, wincing slightly.

Jason rolled his eyes. "You gotta be kidding me."

Zeke wore a knowing expression. "He said it was big."

"Yeah, Jameson's last idea of big was two kids and a few mushroom caps," said Jason, shaking his head.

"I know," replied Zeke. "But if every day was your birthday it wouldn't be your birthday, now would it? Alpha-5! How are ya, sweetheart?" he continued, as they approached a silver-and-black anti-explosives robot.

"Freaking shag carpet," muttered a man squatting beside the robot, with a large remote control box in hand. He had soft blue eyes and sandy blonde hair. "I've been picking it out of her treads all morning."

"That's the price of love, Billy," said Jason, chuckling as he and Zeke continued on past a row of windows.

"Yeah, and she didn't even make me breakfast in the morning," replied Billy, causing Jason and Zeke to laugh.

Zeke then looked back and held up his hand as he said, "Take a break from your girlfriend, Billy; briefing room in five minutes."

"Billy, Bryan's retirement party tonight!" added Jason, sparing a quick look over his shoulder.

"Yeah, yeah, I'll be there!" said Billy, continuing to fiddle with the robot.

Furrowing his brow, Zeke looked to Jason and said, "I thought you had that family thing tonight"

Jason simply smiled.

--

The subway train had stopped once more; this time, the older man who had earlier said goodbye to his son, exited the train. He had a blue jacket on, and walked through the underground station with a look that had gone from distracted, to glazed over, as though he were in some kind of deep trance.

Once he reached the escalator, he took it into the upstairs section of the station and turned right, pausing when he saw a woman in a blue smock disappear around a corner. Smiling to himself, he approached. She was a brunette, curly haired and in her late forties, standing next to a yellow cart full of cleaning supplies and signs that read _CAUTION: WET FLOOR _in three different languages.

"Martha," he murmured, causing the woman to whirl around in surprise.

She looked at him, clearly nervous, and said something in the same language his son had been speaking on the train. They were obviously familiar with one another, but at the same time, she looked none too happy in this man's presence. He seemed to be apologizing for something, but she was not listening. Then he took her arm and, speaking very soothingly, began to pull her along. From her tone, she was being taken against her will.

--

"What are you saying I should do, Sarge?" said Jason, as he and Zeke made their way towards the briefing room via the gym. Both were now carrying cups of coffee.

"I'm saying maybe you should get the big picture," replied Zeke, with a shrug.

"What big picture?" Jason asked, both looking and sounding as though he had never heard such a ludicrous notion before.

"It's your in-laws," said Zeke, a hint of exasperation in his voice. "Their thirtieth wedding anniversary…"

"C'mon…"

"I'm just saying —"

"What, did she pay you to say that or something?" said Jason as they stopped outside the briefing room and turned to face each other.

"Hey, you know what?" said Zeke, smirking in an almost condescending way. "A cop retires every two weeks, and one day it's gonna be you." He poked Jason's chest. "So who you gonna come home to when that day comes? It sure as hell ain't gonna be us."

Jason sighed. The last thing he wanted to do was have this conversation with his boss, especially when he knew he would have to have it with Katherine come morning. Shaking his head, he turned and walked into the briefing room.

Three minutes later, the entire team was in the briefing room, seated at desks with cups of coffee and open binders in front of them, and writing utensils in hand. The robot Alpha-5 was now powered down in the corner of the room nearest the closed door, and Zeke was standing at a podium overlooking his team, an overhead image of downtown Angel Grove on the projector screen behind him.

"Short of anything incoming, we've got a narc warrant for Detective Jameson," said Zeke, to a chorus of knowing groans and murmurs. Adding intentional dryness to his voice, he continued, "The exhilarating, electrifying details of which we'll learn on the way. Ninja teams, Jason."

"Alpha team," started Jason, reading from a sheet in his binder. "Adam, one; Billy, two; Zack, three; Adam, you man the ram. Danny, you're leading Bravo."

"You got it, boss," said Danny.

"Five, six, Billy, you have DD's and flash-bangs," continued Jason, as Billy thrust out his hands like an explosion, with the sounds to match. DD's were Destructive Devices, essentially anything that went boom. "Zack, you're less-lethal."

Zack, who was seated behind Jason with his elbows on the desk and his hands folded, threw up his arms, and in exasperation, said, "What, again?"

"And I shall negotiate should the needle rise," interjected Zeke, to prevent any further argument on Zack's part. "Snipers — Jason, you're Sierra Two; Kim, you're Sierra One."

Jason and Kim, who were seated next to one another, shared a quick look. Kim was wearing her second victorious smile of the day and she had not even finished her morning coffee yet. It was definitely going to be a good day.

"Mr. Scott?" continued Zeke, jokingly asking Jason permission to put him in the second position.

"Absolutely, absolutely," said Jason, nodding. "Spread the wealth." He then turned to Kim and muttered, "What is this, Kim Day?"

Kim smirked. "Every day is Kim Day."

--

Back at the subway station, things were growing far more heated between the man and woman. Her voice was pleading, and she kept looking back over her shoulder in the hopes that someone would see her and come to her aid. The man, however, just kept repeating the same thing over and over in a tone growing in both anger and desperation.

This was a bona fide lover's quarrel.

As he dragged her along, she began resisting, but he was too strong to break away from. Then she saw a suited man on the nearby escalator and screamed, "Help me, please!" The male lover, distracted by this new presence, momentarily lost hold of the woman.

"Is everything alright?" asked the suited man, approaching the couple.

Without hesitation, the male lover reached into his jacket and pulled out a black handgun, which he pointed at the suited man while yelling in his own language.

"Sorry, sorry," said the suited man, bowing out in a way that was almost comical.

Then the gunman turned around to see that Martha was walking away, back towards her yellow supply trolley. He called her name, but she kept on walking, looking back only to shake her head at him. He aimed the gun at her and continued yelling, pleading for her to come back, but she would not listen.

"MARTHA!" he bellowed, spit flying from his mouth as he suddenly snapped. There was a loud bang and Martha hit the floor face first. Walking over to her with a look of pure disgust, he looked down on her as she lie dying in a pool of her own blood and — in his language — spat, "I warned you!"

With that, he walked away. Outside, he slipped into the bustling crowd, intentionally avoiding any and all eye contact with the patrolling police officer walking opposite his direction.

"_Alpha, suspect is flagged,"_ announced a male voice over the officer's radio, _"Fleeing the vicinity, exiting Angel Grove Plaza. Suspect is male, white, mid-forties, heavyset, and wearing a blue jacket. 10-10, I repeat, 10-10."_

Looking sideways at the man as they passed, the police officer slowly turned around and began to follow him. He only made it a few paces before the gunman realized the officer was there. In a flash, both had their guns trained on one another.

"Put the gun down!" yelled the officer, unable to understand what the foreign man was yelling back at him. "Do you understand me? I said, put the gun down now or I _will_ shoot!"

Unfortunately, a blonde woman in her mid-thirties trying to escape got too close to the action. One moment she was just a passerby, the next a hostage at gunpoint. From there, the police officer could do nothing more than allow the gunman to slip away for the time being while he, the officer, radioed in for backup.

--

"Range-finders?" asked Kim, as she and Jason did one last check through the equipment room, which was simply a room full of cages loaded with any tool or weapon they could ever need.

"Check," said Jason, nodding.

"Bipods?" said Kimberly, closing the gate of the last case as Jason gave his confirmation.

"So, how'd it go last night?" questioned Jason, as they started to make their way out of the room.

Kim stepped in front of Jason and said, "Great," with no other acknowledgement.

"Really?" replied Jason, clearly surprised, "Huh."

Moments later they were entering a garage where three black SUV's were being loaded. As Jason caught up to Kim, he pressed on, "And?"

"And, it was great," said Kim, very simply, as they moved towards the back of one of the vehicles.

"_AND?"_ said Jason, stopping at the left taillight, using the hood of the car as a resting place for his arm.

"And what?" asked Kim, throwing her things into the back of the SUV.

"What happened?" said Jason, tossing in his own gear. "Let me guess, you wanted to snuggle up in front of the TV, right?"

Kimberly rolled her eyes, but smiled nonetheless. After five years on the same team, she had gotten used to Jason's brand of teasing, and they had developed what was very much a brother-sister relationship, just like she had with all of the other guys on the team.

"It's just —" started Kim, shaking her head. "I'm sitting there at dinner with him and all I can think about is how badly I want to finish my drywall."

Jason chuckled, but just as he began to reply, he was cut off by an alarm that was accompanied by Zeke's voice over the loud speaker. _"Alright, let's saddle up, guys. We got a call."_

"Change of plans," said Kim, reaching up to close the trunk.

"It's game time," added Jason, helping her push the trunk closed. He then ran around to the driver's seat, while Kim sprinted to the front passenger door. Soon, they were pulling out of the garage, the last in the line of three.

"Angel Grove Plaza, copy," said Kim, into a handheld radio as they hit the freeway ten minutes later. She had a laptop resting on her knees displaying a three-dimensional map of downtown Angel Grove. "What's this guy carrying?"

"_A luger,"_ replied Zeke.

"A Lu —?" started Jason, looking at Kim in disbelief. The Luger was a semi-automatic pistol produced and made popular by the Germans in the two World Wars. Popular though it was — now for collectors more than anyone else — it had long ago become an obsolete weapon. "A fucking Luger?" he continued. "You gotta be kidding me." Kim merely smirked.

"_The first victim is critical and the suspect now has a female hostage."_

"I have it on my screen," said Kim, eyeing her laptop. "Where's he at?"

"_South Tower,"_ answered Zeke. _"It's pretty heavy on civilians over there, so let's go careful; over."_

Smiling, Jason looked to Kim and nodded. "Morning," he muttered.

"Good mornin'!" replied Kim excitedly.

"Alright, let's break it down," said Jason, cracking his neck.

"Eight in the morning, rush hour, business district," Kim rattled off.

"It's gonna be packed," interjected Jason.

"Which means," started Kim, entering a few keystrokes as the image onscreen rotated, "We gotta go high. You take…"

"North building," said Jason. "You counter."

"West?" supplied Kim.

Jason looked at the screen briefly and shook his head. "West is too high," he replied.

"East, then," said Kim. "East gives us —"

"— maximum coverage," they finished in unison.

"Wouldn't want this guy running out on us, would we?" continued Kim.

"Right, right," said Jason, nodding. "What else?"

Kim looked at him in confusion. "What do you mean; what else? This is gonna be crazy!" she added, grinning.

"Fuck yeah, it's gonna be crazy," said Jason matter-of-factly. "Every unit in the city's gonna be wanting a piece of this."

"And I'm Sierra One," murmured Kim, eyeing Jason in her peripheral vision as she focused on the computer momentarily. "Oh yeah," she went on, "I'm Sierra One."

"Chill," said Jason, smiling nonetheless.

Smirking, Kim shrugged. "I'm just saying —"

--

Near the marina district of Angel Grove sat the city's airport, now the second largest in the nation. On tarmac Thirteen-B, a United Airlines jet had just landed, and a man in his mid-twenties was walking down the staircase with a tan duffle bag slung over his shoulder. His dark brown hair was done in tiny spikes, and his chocolate brown eyes showed the wear and tear of having viewed horrors most could never imagine.

As he reached the base of the staircase, he looked both ways and then saw a man in a military uniform seated in a nearby golf cart. Immediately, he started walking that way. They greeted each other politely, and the non-military man climbed into the passenger seat as the cart took off.

For a few minutes they chatted casually, but soon they were in front of the airport where a black town car sat waiting. With a quick handshake, the spiky-haired man hopped out of the cart and into the back of the car. The military man gave the driver instructions and, with that, the car was moving.

They had only been traveling ten or so minutes when the song on the radio suddenly cut out and a female voice came on with breaking news about the shooting outside the subway station and the standoff with police that was now occurring.

"Hey, can you turn that up?" he said from the backseat. The driver nodded and did just that. "Do you know where that is?"

"Don't worry," said the driver. "We're not going anywhere near that."

"Yeah?" said the man, smiling slightly. "Well let's take a detour."

--

Having just arrived on the scene, Jason and Kim hopped out of their SUV, grabbed their gear from the back, and ran to catch up with the rest of their team at the front of the first vehicle in line. Zeke was currently engaged in conversation with the police officer who had been involved in the earlier altercation.

"What's going on?" asked Kim, to Billy.

"Just clarifying some details, I think," answered Billy, who then pointed beyond Zeke. "The guy's over there."

Nodding, Kim took a few big steps to her right, just enough to see the gunman standing in front of the subway station entrance, his weapon trained at the back of the woman's head. She had since been forced to her knees; her face was tear-stained from bawling hysterically, which she was still currently doing.

"What are we waiting for?" questioned Kim, to no one in particular. "We should be getting into position."

"Alright," said Zeke, turning around to address his team. "This guy's name is Goran. He's a Croatian immigrant — we've got an interpreter on the way — and the woman he shot earlier is his wife, who recently filed for divorce. She's critical right now. The one he's got now is Karen Parker, a thirty-nine year old single mother of two. I'm gonna try and talk this guy down; Kim, Jason, be ready for my Dragon. Alright team, let's keep the peace!"

That having been said, the team split up to take their positions. Billy and Zack moved into the back of an armored truck to provide tactical support and any less-lethal options beyond pure negotiation. Kim and Jason ran side-by-side for a while, carrying their sniper rifles against their chests. Then they reached their fork in the road and parted ways — Jason heading north, while Kim went East — with nothing more than a quick wave. At the same time, Adam and Danny grabbed their MP5's — nine-millimeter submachine guns — and moved into twenty yard flanks on either side of Zeke.

"Sir, my name is Zeke Ordon, I'm with the police Strategic Response Team," said Zeke, as he approached Goran unarmed, his hands held at shoulder height to prove this. "Look, we really want to help you, but first we need you to put the gun down, okay? Can you do that for me?"

"_Get back!" _snarled Goran, in Croatian, violently pointing the gun towards Zeke as he yanked the hostage onto her feet, wrapping his arm around her neck. _"Get back or I'll kill her!"_

"Alright, I don't know what you're saying, but can you please put the gun down?" asked Zeke, using his hands to make a downward motion. Touching the bud in his ear, he murmured, "Kim, Jason, where are you?"

"Elevator was down," replied Jason, who was now running through the stairwell of the North Tower. "I'm on foot; ten minutes probably."

"_Get back!" _yelled Goran, thrusting the pistol at Zeke once more.

Seemingly getting the message, Zeke nodded and began a slow backpedal towards the SUV's. There was quite a crowd now, and uniformed officers were doing their best to keep bystanders and reporters away, having already set up a one-hundred and fifty yard barricade.

"Kim, how close are you to being in position?" said Zeke.

"Five minutes, tops," replied Kim, standing outside an elevator door. "Zack, I need eyes."

"_Got it, Kim,"_ said Zack, over their hands-free communication pieces. _"Elevator won't get you to the roof; you'll need to take the stairs at the top. Once your there, head to your left along the guardrail and then make your next right."_

"Copy that," said Kim, as the elevator door chimed and opened. It was crowded inside, and the sight of an armed-and-armored police officer caused a good deal of nervousness as she stepped inside. Looking down to hide her amused smile, she nonchalantly said, "Fourteen, please."

On ground level, Zeke was still trying to talk Goran down, but from a distance now, though he was still not having any luck. Grabbing a black walkie-talkie, he said into it, "Dispatch, what's the status of my translator?"

"_Translator is en route: ETA, ten minutes."_

"That's not good enough," replied Zeke. "Patch him through now."

While Zeke gathered random phrases like "Put the gun down," and "We want to help," none of which worked even in the slightest, Goran's son had just arrived on the scene and was desperately trying to make his way past the police barricade. Zeke, who heard the disruption, quickly jogged the thirty or so yards to where two officers were attempting to restrain the boy.

"That's my dad! That's my dad!" he yelled, but the officers were not listening. "Please, that's my dad! Papa! Papa!"

"Hey, hey, hey, easy there, guys," said Zeke, pushing his way between the two officers. With one arm, he effortlessly kept the teenager at bay. "What's going on, son? Can you tell me your name?"

"M-my name is Darko," said the boy. "That man is my father."

Zeke nodded and seemed to think on that momentarily. Then he used his earpiece to patch back into his team's frequency and said, "Guys, suspect's son just showed up. I'm going to see if we can use him as a TPI to talk his father down."

"Copy that, boss," said Billy, from inside the truck. He was seated at a computer monitor that displayed in line format everything that had been said between Zeke and Goran, as well as timestamps for all major events that had occurred since the SRT's arrival. A small microphone was attached to the computer, and into it Billy said, "Nine-fifteen a.m., suspect's son arrives on scene; will attempt to assist with negotiations as a third-party intermediary."

Immediately, the words appeared on screen.

Outside the truck, Zeke was now walking with Darko behind the cover of the SUV's. "Zack, how far out is the shrink? As much as I hate to admit it, I could really use her input on this one."

"_She should be here any second, boss."_

"Alright, I'm going to hold off on getting the son involved until we've heard from her," said Zeke with a hint of distaste in his tone, not out of disrespect for the doctor, but simply because he despised having to ask for help outside his team. They had been assembled because they were supposed to be the best at what they did; it was situations like these that often left him feeling his most insecure and vulnerable.

At that moment, the back door to the truck opened and a gorgeous, raven-haired Vietnamese woman in a black business suit stepped inside, her cell phone pressed to her ear. "Right, well, I just got here so I'll have to call you back," she said, flipping her phone shut.

"Nine twenty-one, forensic psychologist arrives on scene," said Billy, into the microphone, turning to face Dr. Kwan as the words appeared onscreen behind him. "Morning, doctor," he said casually.

"Billy," replied Dr. Trini Kwan, nodding politely while clearly suppressing the urge to smile. After greeting Zack, she returned her attention to Billy and said, "Can I take a look at the transcripts?"

"By all means," said Billy, sliding his chair out of the way.

"The woman he shot isn't going to make it," said Dr. Kwan matter-of-factly as she approached the screen and began to read aloud, "Unclear, unclear, unclear," which was exactly what it said next to Goran's name each and every time he had spoken thus far. "Alright, patch me through to Zeke and let me get a look at this guy."

"You got it," said Zack, nodding as he reached for an earpiece that he then handed to Dr. Kwan. "Boss, we've got Dr. Kwan in the truck now."

"_Dr. Kwan,"_ said Zeke, with a laugh that sounded somewhat forced. _"What are you thinking?"_

Sighing, Dr. Kwan shook her head as she watched the goings-on outside on a closed-circuit television. Quick evaluations, especially in situations like these, were always tough. "First glance," she answered, "Definitely not substance abuse. He looks like he's in total tunnel-vision. I'm thinking multiple stressors. It would probably help if we knew what was bugging him."

"Right," said Zeke. Switching channels, he asked, "Kim, what's your position?"

"_Negative boss," _said Kim._ "The roof's blocked off for renovations. I need a new location."_

"Zack, did you get that?" asked Zeke.

"_Got it,"_ answered Zack. _"I'm getting a new location now. It's going to be rough, though: higher angle, full crosswind, and a definite ricochet risk."_

Running down the stairwell, Kimberly rolled her eyes, "Jason, what's your position?"

"I've got him," replied Jason. He was now on the roof of the North Tower, flat on his belly at the edge of the building while staring at Goran through a pair of military-grade binoculars. "It's a perfect look."

"Take it," grumbled Kimberly begrudgingly.

Jason nodded as he positioned his rifle, now looking at Goran through the gun's scope. "Billy, did you get that?"

"_Copy,"_ replied Billy. _"Nine twenty-seven, Sierra One's position has officially been compromised. Sierra Two is now Sierra One."_

Zeke, who had heard all of this, patched in and said, "Jason, how's it looking up there?"

"Cold zero, boss," muttered Jason, his finger slipping around the trigger. "I have the solution."

"Good," said Zeke. "Hold off for a minute. I'm going to try and use the kid. Wait for my Dragon. If the suspect continues escalating, take it." Zeke then turned to Darko and said, "Alright, here's what's going to happen. My men are going to cover you while you try to talk your dad down, okay? Now, I don't want any of my boys getting shot out here, so don't go making any sudden movements that might set him off, got it?"

Darko merely nodded as Adam and Danny came up on either side of him. They kept Darko at a distance, though, bringing him forward just enough so that Goran could see his son. Moments later, father and son were conversing in Croatian. Rather quickly, the father began to calm down.

"He's de-escalating," said Zeke, to Jason. "Keep your position."

"_I'm not going anywhere."_

Then, without warning, Goran snapped once again, jamming the gun against the side of the hostage's head as he shouted at the police officers in Croatian. A lump formed in Zeke's throat, but he swallowed it rather quickly. "Jason," he murmured, "Dragon."

On the rooftop, Jason smirked at the codeword confirming that he had free range to shoot. "Copy," he replied, releasing the safety on the rifle aimed right at Goran's head. "Come on friend," he muttered to himself, his finger locked around the trigger. "One…last…dance…"

"Wait, we have a runner!" yelled Zeke, but it was too late.

Just as Jason squeezed the trigger, Darko — who had broken away from Adam and Zack — ran through his line of fire. Breathing heavily, his heart thudding rapidly against his chest, Jason struggled momentarily to regain his view through the rifle's scope. There was Goran, face down and bleeding from the head, Darko kneeling and crying over his father's lifeless body.

"Son of a bitch, that was close," said Zeke, removing his hat to wipe his brow, "Jason, good shot."

"Thanks, boss," breathed Jason, now laying on his back with his hands on his stomach as he stared into the morning sky. What felt like an unbelievably long span of time, had actually been the slowest six seconds of his life.

On the ground, Zeke had turned his back to Goran's body just as two patrol officers started pulling Darko away from his deceased father. In the background, he could hear Darko yelling, "What did you do? What did you do? Why did you do that to him?"

"Alright team, let's pack it up," he said as he walked towards the first SUV. At that moment, an older, balding man in a dark suit and red necktie appeared from behind the SUV, heading right for Zeke. They clearly knew each other, as Zeke extended his hand for a quick shake and said, "How'd you get here so soon?"

"I was already on the scene; I got the call right after you guys did."

Zeke nodded. "So what brings you to my neck of the woods, Inspector?"

"You know why I'm here, Sergeant," said Inspector James Anderson. "Any time lethal force is used —"

"I know, I know," interjected Zeke. "The officers involved must undergo a complete and thorough evaluation to insure all steps to avoid lethal force were taken and that no other options could have been exhausted," he muttered, as though reciting it straight from a textbook. "Look, Jimmy, let me just save you the time, effort, and energy here; I gave the order and there was nothing else that could have been done. There, happy?"

Both sneering and smirking, Inspector Anderson sarcastically replied, "If only it were that easy. Now, let's get your boy down here so we can get this over with."

"He's on his way," said Zeke, turning away. Knowing each other and liking each other obviously did not go hand-in-hand.

A short distance away, Kim was standing at the back of the third SUV, loading her gear inside when the spiky-haired man from the airport walked up to her. "Hey," he said casually. "I saw the whole thing. I'm Tommy; Tommy Oliver."

Kim spared him a brief look and said, "Good for you," before returning to her work.

Tommy grinned. "A lady sniper, huh?" he continued. "You don't see that too often; kinda hot if you ask me. What's that you're carrying there, a Remy 700? Definitely a classic; hard to top one M.O.A., too," he went on. M.O.A. was the Minute of Angle, which was measured in fractions of degrees and pertained to the deviation of a fired ballistics round from its starting point due to gravity and/or the effect of air resistance on velocity. "I carry a vintage Colt myself; pearl grips and all. Want to see?" he asked, reaching into his jacket.

Without hesitation, Kim had drawn her pistol from its hip holster and was aiming it at Tommy as she shouted, "Put your hands where I can see them! Hands where I can see them, now!"

In a second's time, half of Kim's team was backing her up, their guns all trained on Tommy, who had frozen on the spot.

"What the —?" said a new male presence. He was of average height, quite round, and wearing a suit that seemed to strain to fit around his large belly as he waddled and wheezed towards the group. "Put your weapons down, put them down."

The others did as they were told, but Kim kept her weapon on Tommy, looking sideways at the round man as she said, "You know this guy, Dave?"

Dave was actually David Klatt, the SRT's liaison with the local Army base. "Of course I know him, now put down your weapon," he replied. That seemed to be enough for Kim, who holstered her gun while directing an expression of the utmost contempt in Tommy's direction. "Oliver," continued Dave, "I thought your instructions were to report directly to the station."

"They were. Sorry, sir," said Tommy, a barely audible hint of apology in his tone. "But I heard what was happening on the radio and I didn't want to miss it."

"Well, that's understandable, my boy! First day on the job, of course you're excited!" chortled Dave, clasping his pudgy hand on Tommy's shoulder. "Now, come with me. I'll take you to the station myself."

Tommy nodded, but before departing he reached back into his jacket and pulled out a small Polaroid of his gun, which he flashed to Kimberly. "Just a picture," he stated. Wearing a tantalizing smirk, he winked in the general direction of the team and dryly added, "Nice post-incident reflexes, guys."

--

Twenty minutes later, Jason was seated alone in what looked like a standard interrogation room. It was barely bright enough to be considered dim and not very big at all, with a steel table in the center of the room that was surrounded by four of the most uncomfortable looking chairs Jason had ever seen.

He had already been forced to turn over his firearms at the scene, but did not seem nervous about the impending investigation, merely annoyed that his time was being wasted by what he deemed to be such unnecessary trivialities.

Not long after he had been escorted inside by Inspector Anderson and left alone, the door opened once more. A different man entered this time; he had blonde hair that had been combed and parted to the side, and was wearing a navy blue suit. "Officer Scott," said the man, approaching the table. "My name is Brandon Hastings and I'm with the Special Investigation Unit. How are you doing?" Jason just shrugged noncommittally as Hastings went on, "Okay, let's start with your vest. I need your vest, shirt, boots, pants…"

Without a word Jason began stripping until he was left in nothing more than a pair of boxer shorts and a thin, black tank top. Beneath the uniform and heavy armor was a very muscular physique, one that almost any man on Earth would have been jealous of.

No sooner had he gotten his clothes off than the door opened once more. Again, it was a man in a suit, this one with wavy brown hair that had been slicked back with gel.

"You didn't wait," he said to Hastings.

"Just bagging the clothes," replied Hastings, who walked over to Jason with a large plastic bag. He opened the bag and Jason begrudgingly dropped the clothes inside.

The other man rolled his eyes. "They say debriefing and you take it literally. Big surprise there," he muttered. He, too, walked over to Jason, and extended his hand. "I'm Rocky DeSantos, your lawyer. You don't have to say anything to him, okay? That's your right. I saw it on TV, great work Jason." Jason nodded but remained silent as Rocky turned to Hastings and said, "Brandon, this is a no-brainer, no pun intended. Let's just get this over with."

"By all means," said Hastings, motioning for them to sit. After a few minutes worth of discussion about the incident at Angel Grove Plaza, Hastings taking notes the entire time, he said to Jason, "So, when you say he called 'Dragon' —"

"He means he got the order to shoot," interjected Rocky, looking more and more impatient by the moment.

"When you say he got the order —" started Hastings, but fell silent when Jason's cell phone — which was lying on the table — began to ring. "Are you going to get that?"

Checking the caller ID, Jason looked at Hastings and shook his head. Jason had only been investigated like this once before, but that one time had been enough to enforce that the silent approach was usually the best approach.

"Is that your wife?" asked Rocky, who had seen the caller ID as well. Jason nodded. "You can get that, you know. It's your right. Talk to your wife, let her know you're okay."

Sighing, Jason flipped open his phone, brought it to his ear, and said, "Hey, Kat…No, I can't talk right now…Yeah, that was us…Yep, I did it…No, no, no…don't wait up, just—just go to the thing and I'll see you after the retirement party, okay? Yeah, I love you too…" Hanging up, Jason looked to Hastings and dryly said, "Now where were we?"

"Right, picking up," began Hastings, "When you say you got the order —"

"He means he got the goddamn order," Rocky interrupted. "Come on, Inspector, you saw it. That was about as textbook as they come. When all reasonable efforts to de-escalate the situation fail and the suspect is threatening a member of the force, clearly progressing from assaultive to grievous bodily harm…Well, there we have it, yeah? Are we done here, Mr. Hastings?"

"Just about," muttered Hastings, looking none too impressed with the lawyer. "Officer Scott, are you aware that the suspect's son was at the scene."

Jason looked to Rocky, who nodded once. "My observers said there was a young male," answered Jason.

"And do you believe all efforts were made to involve the son as a third-party intermediary?"

"Yes, I do," said Jason, nodding.

"And are you confident that all options were exhausted before the use of lethal force?"

"What, you mean the option of watching him shoot one of my guys?" replied Jason sarcastically.

Hastings narrowed his eyes at Jason and said, "I'll put that down as a yes. Just so you know, Officer Scott, this is the process: We investigate alongside the coroner's inquest and our director will deliver his statement as to whether or not there are reasonable grounds to believe that you or the other subject officer used excessive force."

"He knows the goddamn process, Hastings," said Rocky.

"Until that time," continued Hastings, as though Rocky had not said anything at all, "You're under investigation. We recommend you take a break, spend some quality time with your family…"

"Thank you, Inspector," said Rocky impatiently. "Are we done here?"

Rising to his feet, Hastings nodded and began gathering his things. "See you at the inquest," he muttered, leaving.

Jason waited long enough for Hastings to get a good distance away and then stood up as well, heading for the door.

"Wait, wait, wait," said Rocky, Jason slowly turning around to face him. "There's still one more person you have to see…"

Rolling his eyes, Jason returned to his seat and sat back down. He knew exactly what was coming; the worst part of any lethal-force investigation. Once they had gone over everything in private, Rocky departed with a brief handshake. As he exited the room, a third presence entered: Dr. Kwan, carrying a briefcase that she laid on the table in front of Jason.

"Look —" he started.

"I know, I know, you're fine," said Dr. Kwan, over the top of him. "You did a great job out there today, Jason, but you need someone to talk to. Everything is strictly confidential…"

Jason grinned. "Doc, if you want a date that bad, all you have to do is ask."

Both laughed as Dr. Kwan rolled her eyes. "Oh, you know what?" she began. "Fuck it; I forgot who I was talking to here. You're not that guy. You're not going to wonder if you did the right thing. You're not going to have any sleepless nights; flashbacks; memory loss; time distortions. You're not going to...feel alone, feel guilty; feel guilty about not feeling guilty. That's what happens to other people, you'll be fine." Walking back to the door, she looked over her shoulder and added, "You know where to find me. Not that you'll need to…"

--

Much later that night, the rest of the team was sitting at a table in the local police watering hole for the retirement party. They were long out of uniform, drinking beer and chatting casually, their conversation intentionally drowning out the superior officer currently giving a speech about the retiree when Jason entered the bar.

Billy immediately noticed him from across the room and flagged him down. Noticing this, Jason nodded and started towards the table. From the actual bar area where he was, there was a small staircase leading down to something of a sitting area with many round tables and chairs, and a small stage where the speaker was standing. Just as Jason passed his side of the U-shaped bar, Kim hopped out from around the corner with two beer bottles in hand, one of which she handed to Jason with a smile.

"Code of silence been lifted yet?" asked Kim, taking a sip from her bottle of Stella Artois.

"Yeah," said Jason, nodding as they continued on towards the table.

"So, how'd it go?"

Jason shrugged. "The way they do," he answered.

Kim rolled her eyes. "Want a piece of gum?" she asked, extending a pack to him. "It's minty fresh…" Jason, who did not look amused, shook his head as Kim went on, "Listen, I saw you up there. It was a clean shot."

"Yeah," breathed Jason, "It was."

"That guy knew what he was in for," Kim pressed on. "You saved lives today, Jason."

"What do I always tell you?" said Jason, taking a long drink as they hit the staircase. "Making the world safe so that others may —"

"— eat pie," they grumblingly finished in unison, grinning at each other.

"Mr. Scott!" said the man on stage, chuckling as Jason and Kim entered the room. Behind him was a long banner that read _Senile, Retired & Useless._ "You better have an outstanding reason for being late!"

All of the sudden the whole room broke into applause at Jason's entrance, people hooting and hollering and beating their fists against their respective tables. Apparently the story had spread fast and, as was often the case, cops tended to side with their own in matters like this. Jason humbly ignored this greeting, managing nothing more than a small nod as the man continued, "Good job today son! And I'm done; as you were."

Jason and Kim took their seats with their team just in time to join the applause for the speaker. Once the applause died down, Kim had barely had time to take another drink when she noticed Dave Klatt and Tommy Oliver approaching the table.

"Okay, we're going to try this again," said Dave, placing a hand on Zeke's shoulder. "Team One, this is Tommy Oliver."

"Hey," said Tommy, with a wave, though very few people at the table really seemed to care.

"Tommy's going to be joining you," continued Dave. "He took his baby steps in the Newton Division, went Army, and is joining us straight from Special Forces in Afghanistan. Tommy, this is Zeke Ordon, the team sergeant," he announced, Tommy and Zeke shaking hands. "And here we've got Zack Taylor, Billy Cranston, Danny Parker, Adam Park, Kim Hart, and Jason Scott, the team leader."

"Nice shot out there," said Tommy, to Jason.

Jason nodded. "Thanks," he replied simply, taking another long drink.

Kim then turned to Zeke and said, "I thought the team was full."

"Yeah," added Danny.

Smiling, Zeke pushed his chair back and rose to his feet. He then moved to stand behind Danny and placed his hands on the younger man's shoulders. "I wanted to wait until the whole team was here to make the announcement, but Danny's just been put on the fast track for sergeant. Congratulations son."

Next moment the table had erupted in cheers, everyone outside of Zeke, Dave, and Tommy clambering to grab hold of a visibly overwhelmed Danny. "This one's on me guys," said Dave, once things had died down, placing a wad of cash on the table. "You guys earned it."

A surprised chorus of "Thank you, sir!" followed as Dave nodded and walked away. Tommy, noticing an empty seat between Kim and Zack, quickly slid into the chair, gazing at the back of Kim's head until she finally turned around and noticed him sitting there.

"Kim, huh?" murmured Tommy. "That short for Kimberly?" he asked, as though there was a legitimate chance that it could have been short for something else.

Kim smiled. "No," she replied, shaking her head while lying through her teeth. Then her expression grew serious. "Explain something to me, Tommy. Elite special-ops counter-terrorist guy leaves it all behind for the glamour of urban policing…what's up with that?"

Tommy looked both taken aback and concerned. Of all the things she could have asked him, why did that have to be the first one? Luckily, Zack had noticed Tommy as well, and seemed much more impressed with his Special Forces background than Kim did. "So, Tommy," said Zack, tapping him on the shoulder to get his attention, which Tommy thankfully gave him, "How many of those Al-Qaeda guys you take out?"

"What, like to dinner?" said Tommy, laughing.

"Man, I heard about you," interjected Adam, from across the table. "My brother Eric was in basic training with you. He swears you were sober, but you gotta be wasted to take seven tasers like that, right?"

"I could take seven," said Zack, before Tommy could reply.

"Seven what?" asked Kim, her brow furrowed.

"Seven tasers," answered Zack, his expression and tone both quite serious.

Kim laughed. "You could not take seven tasers, Zack."

As the conversation grew louder, the words being spoken became less and less clear in Jason's head, until all that he could was an ever-rising-in-volume round of indecipherable sounds. Suddenly looking like he might get sick right then and there, Jason slowly rose to his feet so as not to attract attention, and then headed for the bathroom near the bar, completely unaware that Zeke was following after him.

Jason had his head buried in the white porcelain sink, splashing cold water onto his face when Zeke entered the bathroom. Walking up from behind, Zeke laid a hand on Jason's shoulder, the latter of whom inclined his eyes just enough to see the older man's reflection in the mirror.

"I'm fine," said Jason, standing tall as he reached for some paper towels and began to pat his face dry.

Zeke shook his head. "You should do the math one day, you know, on all the 'I'm fine's.' They're going to catch up with you eventually."

Jason could only sigh as Zeke turned and exited the bathroom. Then Jason closed his eyes for a moment and immediately wished that he had not, for he saw not the darkness he had been expecting and hoping for. Instead, it was Goran's dead body lying on the cement, the young boy Darko kneeling over it with violent tears streaming down his face.

Shuddering, Jason fought hard to suppress the resurgent urge to vomit. Using lethal force, no matter how many times you had done it in the past, was never easy, especially when doing so had nearly claimed the life of an innocent teenager…


	2. Welcome to the SRT

_**Title: The Elite**_

_**Chapter Two — Welcome to the SRT**_

_**Original Posting Date: September 6, 2009**_

--

As it was, days like the one they had had yesterday were not a terribly common occurrence in the SRT. In fact, when not involved in those rare life-or-death situations with hostages and armed attackers, most of their time was spent in training, working out and keeping their skills sharp for when the next time inevitably came. Today was one of those days.

At exactly two-thirty on the nose, the afternoon sun shining high above the station — four floors of which were devoted to the SRT — a white 1969 Chevrolet Camaro convertible with green racing stripes and the ragtop down rumbled into the parking lot, whipping into an open space between Zack's Trailblazer and a black Jeep with a four-inch lift. Clambering out of his Camaro, Tommy walked around to the back and popped the trunk, grabbing his brown duffel bag. As he started towards the station, the driver's side door of the Jeep opened.

To Tommy's great surprise, Kim hopped down and smiled at him. "Gotta love the late shift, eh?" she said pleasantly, which was even more of a surprise to Tommy, who had detected nothing but dislike from her so far.

"For sure," said Tommy, nodding. As Kim walked towards him, he smiled and went on, "A lady sniper with a big Jeep and a Remy-700; you're just pulling at my heartstrings here, you know that?"

"You never answered my question last night, you know," said Kim unflinchingly. She refused to let Tommy know that it was his face that had been the last one she had thought of before she had fallen asleep.

Tommy sighed as they started towards the station side-by-side. "What was your question again?" he asked, clearly stalling while subconsciously hoping that another of his new teammates would show up to save him like they had last night. Alas, it was not to be.

"For ex-Special Forces you aren't too bright, are you?" said Kim, a distinct twinkle in her eye. "Then again, maybe _that's_ why you're ex-Special Forces; couldn't hack it in the military so you thought joining us regular old police would be your next best option?"

"What the fuck is your problem?" said Tommy, stopping in the middle of the parking lot. "I haven't done shit to you, and you've been nothing but hostile to me from the start. What, did you have a crush on Danny or something? Mad at me 'cause I'm the one that took your boyfriend's place?"

For a moment, Kim looked utterly perplexed. Then her lips began a slow curve into a wide smirk. "If that's your idea of hostile, you're not going to last very long here. All I want is an answer, Tommy. Why leave the glamour and glory of Special Forces for this?"

"Maybe I didn't want the glamour and glory," muttered Tommy bitterly. "You're barking up the wrong tree here, Kimberly. I'm here because I want to be here and that's all you need to know. I don't care if you like me, but you _will_ respect me. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go earn that respect from each and every person on the team."

Whirling around, Tommy continued on towards the station while Kim simply stood there, staring at his back, analyzing their brief conversation with every ounce of training she'd received in studying the psychology of the perpetrators who had made her job such a necessary one. He had at least a few skeletons in his closet; that much was painfully obvious, as was the quite firm likelihood that those skeletons had come at least partially from the time he had spent mobilized in Afghanistan.

For someone who went to work every day knowing that she might have to kill someone, Kim was not a very violent person at all. Still, imagining the horrors that Tommy had seen in combat only made him all the more intriguing to her. She had met him less than twenty-four hours ago and she was already itching to know him better. It certainly didn't hurt matters that she had found him downright edible from her first look, either.

Once she had shaken herself from her brief mental stupor, she proceeded up to — and into — the station, riding one of the three elevators to the twelfth floor where the SRT's locker rooms and gym area were housed. When she stepped off the elevator she headed straight for the locker rooms while completely ignoring Jason, who had seen her from his place on the leg press and was now walking towards her.

To the left was the locker room marked _Men's_; Kim went to the right, into the locker room marked _Kim. _Jason had done it to her on her first day with the team as something of a prank, since she was the only female in the history of the SRT to make it onto Team One and the additional room had been built strictly for her use.

She quickly changed into a pair of grey sweats and a black tank top; grabbing her iPod out of her duffle bag, she clipped it onto the waistband of her sweats and plugged in the ear buds, turning the mp3 player on loudly so as to have an excuse not to talk to Jason when she came out of her locker room.

There were no problems between them at all; she simply needed to focus her full attention on her plan of attack for her next attempt at prying into Tommy's mind. Pulling a towel and water bottle out of her bag, she then shoved the bag into one of the thirty or so lockers she had to choose from on a daily basis and exited the room. In the gym, she headed straight for the treadmills on the far side of the room while avoiding the eyes of her teammates completely.

Hard as it was, this included Tommy as well, who was seated on a weight bench and curling fifty pound dumbbells in a form-fitting tank top, his muscles rippling each and every time he gruntingly lifted one of the weights. His arms and chest bore a handful of what were clearly very detailed tattoos, though she was unable to spare a long enough look to see what they were exactly without making herself too obvious.

For most of her run, her teammates left her alone, but just as she was approaching the forty-five minute mark she noticed Jason rack the long bar of weights he had just been bench-pressing, stand up, and start walking over to her. They met eyes; she could ignore him no longer.

Slowly pulling the bud out of her left ear, she nodded towards Jason and casually said, "Hey, what's up?"

"Not much," answered Jason, shrugging. Folding his arms on the left rail of the treadmill, he rested his chin on his hands and asked, "You?"

"Same ole, same ole," breathed Kim.

Jason nodded. "We're breaking in the rookie in a little bit; thought you might want to come and help out."

"Absolutely," said Kim, smiling. "Are we putting him on the practice range?"

"Yep," said Jason.

"I want the controls," said Kim firmly. "Then we'll really see if this kid is really all that he's cracked up to be."

Chuckling, Jason shook his head and said, "Less than a day and you've already got it in for him. What's up with that?"

"I do _not_ have it in for him," replied Kim. "But unlike _some_ of these guys, I'm not going to start drooling over Tommy like he's some kind of freaking hero. If he wants my respect, he's going to have to earn it just like everybody else."

"Kim, he fought for eight years in Afghanistan for crying out loud," said Jason slowly. "He _is_ a hero."

Kim rolled her eyes. "For his military service, yes," she countered. "You didn't see Zack and Adam last night, though. It was like they were two kids getting to meet their favorite baseball player or something. All I'm saying is that I'm not going to go around worshiping this guy like some crazy little fan-girl until he proves he's worth his weight in more than smarmy smiles and sarcastic remarks."

"That's fair," said Jason, clearly trying to fight a grin. "Control room in thirty, okay?"

Nodding, Kim plugged the ear bud back in as Jason turned and walked away. It was not long after that when she hopped off the treadmill and returned to the locker room, quickly showering and changing into her gray uniform; she left the long-sleeved shirt off though, opting instead for a black tee shirt. After pulling her hair into a ponytail, she hurried up the stairs and down a long hallway to the practice range control room only to find that she and Tommy were the only ones to have arrived thus far.

Ignoring him for the time being, she walked over to a tall gray locker and popped the grated door open, pulling out a handgun, clip, and a box of bullets. Hastily loading the gun, she applied the safety and handed it over to Tommy.

"Ten bullets, ten targets, you don't get to miss," she told him.

Tommy took the gun with a smile. "I don't miss," he replied. Despite their earlier altercation, there was just something about her that made Kim a very hard person for him to stay mad at.

"Uh-huh," murmured Kim, as she turned towards a trio of computer monitors on a nearby desk displaying the inside of the practice range. "We'll just see about that."

Eyeing the screens carefully, Tommy asked, "Full three-sixty simulation?"

Kim nodded. "Only the best for the proud men and women of the SRT," she answered, ushering him towards the side door that lead into the practice range.

"Live ammo, right?" said Tommy, as Kim opened the door.

"Always," said Kim. As Tommy entered the range, she quickly walked back to the desk and grabbed a pair of night-vision goggles. "Hey!" she continued, tossing them to Tommy. "You're gonna need those."

With that, she pushed the door closed just as the one on the other side of the room opened. It was Zeke who walked in, wearing a pink dress shirt tucked into a pair of black slacks. "Morning, Kim," he said with a nod.

"Morning, Sarge," said Kim, taking the seat in front of the monitors, where a keyboard sat that would control the entire simulation. Looking back at him, unable to resist the urge, Kim smirked and murmured, "Pink, huh?"

Zeke laughingly shrugged his shoulders. "Such is the high risk world of internet shopping. Already started him off?"

Kim shook her head. "I'm waiting for the others."

No sooner had the words escaped her lips than the door opened once more, Jason leading the rest of the team into the control room. Most were in full uniform, though a few had opted for the black shirt option as well, which was allowed only so long as they were not on duty outside of the station.

"Here we go, guys," said Kim, smiling vibrantly as she muttered quietly, "I'm going to enjoy this."

"Play nice, Kim," said Jason, looking at her in a way that said he knew exactly what she was thinking.

Kim frowned in faux disappointment, but said nothing as she turned back around to man the controls. At that point all eyes became focused on the three monitors as, with one simple keystroke, the first target came out.

Standing in a long, narrow hallway made of steel walls, Tommy heard the target pop and whirled around to fire a single shot directly into the bulls-eye painted on the chest of the cardboard gunman. With ease, he took out the next two similarly designed targets.

"Faster," said Jason. With an unmistakable glimmer in her eyes, Kim merely nodded and hit the necessary key. Still, Tommy did not flinch, taking out three more targets in a manner that looked almost lazy. "Granny him," ordered Jason.

At the next keystroke, a cardboard cutout of an elderly woman carrying an umbrella shot out from behind a corner. Whirling around, Tommy aimed but did not shoot, which earned oohs, ahhs, and an obviously female groan, as well.

"Hope it doesn't get dark in there," supplied Billy.

"Good call," replied Kim.

Next moment, the lights inside the practice range went out completely, leaving Tommy shrouded in darkness. Without hesitation he let out a chuckle, pulled on his night-vision goggles, and turned them on, looking into a room that was now colored green as another target popped out behind him. The result was yet another rapid bulls-eye. Two targets later and he had definitely proven to everyone, including Kim, that he was, if nothing else, an excellent marksman.

As the lights slowly flickered back on, Tommy pulled off the goggles and grinned. Then he whipped around with his gun aimed sideways, firing his last shot into the hanging, upside down gunman that had just fallen out of the ceiling behind him.

"Damn," muttered Kim, shaking her head.

On the video screen, she could see Tommy turn towards the camera in a high corner of the room. Smirking triumphantly, as if he were looking right at her, Tommy laughed and said, "Cool. What else you got?"

"Let's put him on the wires," said Kim, turning around to Zeke and Jason for their approval.

The two most senior members of the team looked at each other as Zeke said, "What do you think?"

"Eh, it can't hurt," replied Jason, shrugging. "There may come a time where we need him to do it. Might as well see what he's got now, you know?"

Zeke nodded and then turned to address Kim. "Let's get him on the wires."

"I'll hook him up. You guys go downstairs," said Kim, smiling widely. "I want you all to see the look on his face when I wipe the floor with him."

As the team departed, Kim opened the door to the practice range and let a still-grinning Tommy back into the control room. "Not bad, huh?" he murmured, tossing the goggles and empty weapon onto the monitor table.

Kim shrugged. "Being able to fire a gun accurately is a good thing, especially in this job," she answered, unable to deny that he was a good shot, even though she desperately wanted to. "But it's not the only thing. Let's see how you handle it when there's nothing but a wall, wire, and fifteen stories under your feet."

"Rappelling?" asked Tommy, Kim nodding as they exited the control room. Unfazed, Tommy continued, "Alone or against someone?"

"You'll be going against the team's time champion," said Kim, directing him towards the elevators.

"Oh yeah," said Tommy, Kim nodding once more, "And who might that be?"

Stopping outside the wall of elevators, Kim pushed the _UP_ button and then sent a smirk Tommy's way as she answered, "Me."

The elevator dinged and opened a moment later, but it took Tommy a few seconds before he was able to regain enough of himself to follow Kim inside. One of two snipers on the team, an expert at rappelling…maybe her being a female did not hinder her as he had first thought it would. Perhaps she was better than he had given her credit for.

Standing shoulder-to-shoulder as they rode the elevator in silence, Tommy turned his head just enough to get a discreet look at her face. Just as he had found it incredibly hard to be mad at her, he found it just as difficult not to open up. Countless others had asked him the same question she had presented the night before — and then again that morning — but he had never wanted to answer it before. Now, however…

Tommy sighed. "I watched two of my best friends get killed right in front of me," he murmured, his eyes trained on the ground.

"Hmm?" said Kim, who had not been paying much attention.

"That's the answer to your question," replied Tommy. "In the last year I watched two of my best friends die. I wanted out as soon as it happened, but my tour wasn't over yet. Even so, I'd been military since high school graduation. I didn't have a clue what I was going to do with my life; all I knew was that I wanted out. Then last month Dave contacted my commanding officer about the opening in the SRT, asking if he had any recommendations. I was the guy they recommended…"

Kim, who had not been expecting him to crack like that, nodded solemnly. "I'm sorry for your loss," she murmured, touching his arm. "But we face the same risks here too, you know. Every day there's a chance one of us might die out there."

She was on the verge of asking him if he would run away again if one of his teammates in the SRT were killed in the line of duty when Tommy interrupted her, half-chuckling and half-scoffing. "While I certainly appreciate the sentiment, please don't pretend that this is _anything_ like it is over there. Yes, I'm willing to acknowledge the fact that you face the possibility of death on the rare days when you're actually in the field, and for someone who's never been over there, I can understand why you'd say what you just did.

"But until you've been bombed seven different times in the middle of the night…until you've watched two of your best friends get sniped through the head while wondering why they didn't take you out as well…until you've spent every night for two weeks straight just staring up at the ceiling, unable to sleep because all you can see when you close your eyes is death…until you've spent every single moment of every single day wondering if today's going to be the day you die… Here, in suburban Southern California; it's nothing like Afghanistan, I can promise you that much."

"I didn't mean —" started Kim.

"I know," said Tommy, cutting her off with a smile as the elevators dinged and the doors opened up.

Without another word he stepped off the elevator and into a room that looked very much like the gym, only without all the workout equipment. The walls were the same gunmetal gray; the windows all had metal, electronically controlled shutters; and the floor had the same inch-thick black padding. At the center of the room was a single wooden table that sat on the backside of an eight-foot high, six-foot wide metal cage.

"There's the gear," said Kim as she approached Tommy from behind, pointing towards the cage. She had taken Tommy's interjection as a sign that he had said all he wanted to for the time being; considering that he had semi-freely opened up to her like that, she was not about to risk losing that trust by continuing to push him harder. "You ready?"

Tommy half-smirked and said, "I'm always ready."

"Good," said Kim, clapping her hands, "Then let's do this."

At the cage, she popped open the door, stepped inside, and quickly began gathering gear that she then passed on to Tommy. Soon there were pairs of carabiners, ascenders, and descenders; gloves, full body harnesses, and coiled black rappel rope all lying on the wooden table, organized into separate piles for each of them. Walking back to the cage, Tommy peered inside and said, "That all of it?"

"Yep," said Kim, nodding. Then she paused, grabbed something from one of the shelves, and showed it to Tommy with a shit-eating grin on her face as she added, "Unless the wittle wookie wants a helmet, of course."

Tommy rolled his eyes and walked back to the table, halfway through gearing up when Kim reappeared at his side. They finished in silence and then Kim used her head to point at a floor-to-ceiling high window on the other side of the room. Tommy nodded in understanding and followed her to the window, which she unlocked and pushed open effortlessly, despite the fact that — to Tommy — it looked awfully heavy, even for him.

"Alright, rook, let's see what you're made of," said Kim, gesturing for him to step out onto the landing first. Truly, it was more of a balcony than a landing. The cement area was nearly fifteen feet wide and six feet deep to a steel guardrail that then housed another four feet of foot space on the other side, all to insure there were no accidents-via-misstep in the training process.

"Don't be surprised if you wipe the floor with me," said Tommy, smiling sheepishly. "I haven't done this in a while."

"Don't think you can play me into taking it easy on you," replied Kim, securing her carabiner to the base of the guardrail, which had been reinforced to support up to seven-hundred pounds. As Jason was the heaviest on the team at one-hundred and eighty pounds, and they never went more than two at a time, they were again insured safety. Once Tommy was latched on, they climbed over the guardrail and took their positions with their ropes in hand and their backs to the ground. "Get your footing on the side and we'll go on three."

"For sure," said Tommy, nodding as he gripped the rope tightly and slowly stepped backwards until the toes of his boots were on the other side of the ledge, forcing him to now stare up at the roof of the building.

Kim did the same and then began her count. "One…two…"

At three, Tommy gave a bold kickoff and next moment was sliding down the rope at what were quite literally breakneck speeds. In fact, if he landed on his feet at this speed, not only was he sure to break Kim's record, but every bone in his legs as well. Then, at the last possible moment, he swung his body back towards the wall and brought his body to an abrupt halt just before his feet made contact. Quickly, he released himself from his harness and dropped the five feet to the ground unsupported, landing more than a second before Kim did.

"Holy shit!" exclaimed Zack, turning to his right as he slapped Adam on the shoulder. "Did you see that shit, man?"

"Hell yeah!" replied Adam, who had been rappelling against Kim for the last three years without a single victory. "Ha!" he added to Kim, grinning cheekily as he walked towards her. "Looks like someone finally met her match, huh?"

"That was sloppy work if I've ever seen it," muttered Kim, disengaging herself from her gear. Then she turned around and saw Tommy standing there with his arms folded across his chest, wearing a smile that was not his standard condescending-or-sarcastic, but simply a soft smile that, unbeknownst to Tommy, made her heart skip a beat. "But I guess it doesn't have to be pretty to be efficient," she conceded, shaking her head.

Jason then approached and laid a hand on her shoulder. "I hate to break it to you, Kim, but the rookie here just broke your record by three-tenths of a second," he announced. Grabbing Tommy's wrist, he raised their arms high and jokingly proceeded, "Ladies and gentleman, boys and girls, children of all ages; it is my distinct pleasure to announce the new, undisputed, SRT Rappelling Champion of the World…Theeeeeeeeeeee Rook!"

"Thank you, thank you," said Tommy, bowing humbly to his teammates once Jason had released his hold. Faking a sniffle, he wiped at his eyes and said, "There's only one person I'd like to thank for this, and that's Kim. None of this would have been possible if it wasn't for her snail-like crawl down the wall."

"Oh, you are _so_ hilarious," said Kim sarcastically, ignoring the fact that the entire team happened to be laughing.

"Alright, alright," interjected Zeke, clasping a shoulder of both Tommy and Kim. "Shake hands," he ordered, which they did while eyeing each other suspiciously. "Good; now we go on patrol in twenty, make the good citizens of this city feel safe. Until the rematch…" As everyone headed back inside to grab a few minute's relaxation before their patrol, Zeke grabbed Jason by the shoulder and kept him back. "What are you thinking for teams?"

Jason shrugged. "The usual," he replied. "Figured we'd keep them the same, just switch out Tommy and Danny."

"I think we should send Kim with the rookie," supplied Zeke.

"Really?" said Jason, Zeke nodding. "Huh."

Zeke eyed Jason curiously. "What, you don't think so?"

"No, it's not that," said Jason, shaking his head. "Tommy seems like he's going to fit in fine around here, but he and Kim have been kind of shaky from the start. I don't want to force them on each other now only to have them end up hating each other as a result, you know?"

"Yeah, that could happen," admitted Zeke. "But I also think their competitiveness is a good thing and that both understand where the line ends. Whether they like each other or not, I could care less, but they'll both be professional at work or they'll both be looking for new jobs. I don't see that happening, though. I think, in the end, they'll end up bringing out the best in each other."

Jason seemed to think on that for a few moments. "Hey, your team, your call," he said.

"Yes, it is," replied Zeke, "But you're my second and I value your opinion."

"Well, you know what I think," said Jason. "But I'll be the first to admit that, if I was wrong, it wouldn't be the first time."

"Same here," said Zeke, smiling. "We'll try it out for a few days. That should be long enough to tell whether this little experiment is going to be a success or not. For now, you ride with Billy."

"Sir, yes, sir!" barked Jason, smirking while saluting.

Zeke just shook his head, managing to mostly conceal his smile as he continued back inside with Jason following close behind. Soon thereafter the team reconvened in the briefing room to receive their orders. Jason, who was the last to enter, was quite surprised to see that Kim was not in her usual seat at the front-left table; instead, she was seated next to Tommy at the back-right table and Adam had taken her usual place. As soon as Jason had sat beside Adam, Zeke, who was now in full uniform and standing at the podium, began to address the team.

"Alright, so here's the deal," said Zeke. "We haven't gotten any calls yet, but the night is still young. Plus, it's a full moon tonight. Yes, Zack?"

Zack put down his raised hand and said, "What's that got to do with anything, Sarge?"

"Full moons make people crazy, it's a proven fact," said Zeke, smirking. "That being said, we're going to call tonight patrol night," he continued, to a chorus of whooping applause as he went on, "Put in a little Team One PR, let the people know we're out there, keep the bad guys on their toes…you know the drill. Yeah, Adam?"

"Sarge, me and Zack, club district?" he asked. Kim snorted behind him. "What, there's a lot of danger in those places," continued Adam defensively.

"Fine, fine," said Zeke with a chuckle. "Patrol happy hour and all those threatening young women in tube tops and miniskirts. As for the rest of you: Billy, you and I will take the business district; Jason —"

"East side of town?" asked Jason.

"That's fine," said Zeke, nodding. "Kim —"

"West," replied Kim. She then leaned into Tommy's side and said, "I'm thinking chicken marinara at Tony's in little Italy…"

"We'll take west," interjected an anxious Zack, who had just realized how good chicken marinara from Tony's sounded, especially since Tony, the owner, always let cops eat for free.

"Uh-uh," said Kim, shaking her head.

"You have tube tops," added Tommy.

"Yeah," said Kim, grinning victoriously at Zack.

"Alright then," said Zeke, motioning towards the door, "Let's keep the peace."

A few minutes later, two elevators full of SRT members reached the ground floor, following Zeke's lead to the garage where the three Chevrolet Suburbans from the day before, plus one more that had previously gone unused, sat waiting.

"You driving?" asked Tommy, as he followed Kim towards one of the two vehicles on the left side of the garage.

"Is that a legitimate question?" replied Kim, raising an eyebrow towards Tommy while smiling.

Tommy laughed. "Fair enough," he replied, opening the passenger side door and hopping inside as Kim walked around the front of the Suburban to the driver's side. Once inside, she quickly turned the engine over, put her seat belt on, and pulled into the line of SUV's driving out of the garage.

"Preference on the radio?" asked Kim, shooting a quick look at Tommy.

"Anything but classical," said Tommy, chuckling as he started adjusting the headrest to suit his height. As it was usually Kim — who was nearly a full foot shorter than him — in his seat, he had quite a bit of adjusting to do.

Kim nodded and turned on an alternative rock station, leaving the volume low so that they could hear their communication radio in the unlikely event that a call actually came in. Lasting only the ten minutes it took to reach the highway, Kim again turned to Tommy. "So where were you before…_you_ _know_?

"Well, like I said earlier, I went military straight out of high school," answered Tommy. "I grew up not too far from here, though. You ever been to Reefside?"

"A few times," said Kim. "It's a nice town; a little too small for me, though."

Tommy laughed heartily at that. "Exactly why I wanted out," he replied, shaking his head. "It was a great place to grow up, and I'm sure it'd be a great place to settle down, but for an eighteen year-old kid…"

"Definitely," said Kim, nodding.

"What about you?" questioned Tommy, tilting his head just enough to meet Kim's eyes. "What were you doing before the wonderful world of the SRT?"

Kim shrugged. "I grew up in a town outside of Boston; tried to do the college thing out of high school, but it wasn't me, you know?" she said, Tommy nodding. "All my life I wanted to do something meaningful. One night, I was driving to the bar I worked at and saw a billboard that said the Boston PD was hiring. Two days later, I enrolled in the academy; started working the beat, moved my way up to Vice, applied for the SRT opening when it came about a few years back, and the rest, as they say, is history."

"You must have had some kind of an athletic background, yeah?"

"What makes you say that?" asked Kim.

"It's not every day you see a five-foot-two woman do the things I've seen you do these last two days," said Tommy. "Granted, you didn't have to use your rifle yesterday, but I doubt the Sarge would have made you one of the only two snipers on the team if you couldn't handle it. I had a girlfriend a few years back, just a little bit bigger than you; I let her fire my gun one day and the recoil knocked her flat on her ass."

Kim laughed knowingly. "I did gymnastics competitively my whole life," she explained. "But most of it came from growing up with two older brothers who seized every opportunity they had to torture me. They're awesome now, but they were such pains in my ass when we were younger."

"Yeah, my brother David and I are three years apart and he was the same way," said Tommy. "Then at seven years old I enrolled in my first karate class. A year and a few belts later, he messed with me just a little bit too much and I thoroughly whopped his ass. After that, I never had to do it again."

As they drove through the streets of downtown Angel Grove, so too did their conversation continue, never growing more serious than it already had. More than once Tommy smiled for no reason other than because he had never met a woman he wanted to know and open up to more than Kim. There was just something about her he could not yet place his finger on that put him very much at ease.

It was a feeling he had not experienced in quite some time.

After nearly six hours on "patrol" and the best chicken marinara Tommy had ever had, he and Kim returned to the station to find that they were the last ones back. Just as Kim began to climb out of the Suburban, though, Tommy reached out and seized her wrist, causing her to freeze and look his way in surprise.

"Thank you," murmured Tommy, wearing the same smile that made had Kim's heart skip a beat earlier in the day.

Again, it had the same effect. "F-for what?" she replied.

"For not being like the rest of these guys," said Tommy, tilting his head towards the door leading back into the station as he continued, "For not treating me like I'm special just 'cause I was Special Forces. For kicking my ass today and making me earn it every step of the way; but most importantly, for listening. As I'm sure you've realized, I don't like talking about my past too much, but when I do, it's nice to do it with someone who doesn't judge. At least not to my face, anyway," he added with a chuckle, wanting to end on something fairly lighthearted.

Smiling, Kim nodded and said, "You're welcome. If you ever feel like talking, I'm here for you, just like I am for the rest of my teammates. You're family now, okay? We all ride each other from time to time, but at the end of the day, you can't put your life in the hands of someone you don't trust, you know?"

"Absolutely," answered Tommy, nodding as well. "And I appreciate the sentiment, as well. I know I have the tendency to come off cocky sometimes, but that's really not who I am. So thank you for at least taking the time to get to know me."

"God, would you stop thanking me?" laughed Kim, smacking his shoulder. "You keep it up and I won't take it so easy on you in our rematch tomorrow."

"Pssh," said Tommy, as he and Kim clambered out of the SUV and started towards the door into the station. "Take it easy, my ass. I whooped you like a redheaded step-child today and you know it. What was that that Jason called me out there? Oh, yeah, that's right: the undisputed, SRT Rappelling Champion of the World. Has a nice ring to it, doesn't it?"

Kim rolled her eyes. "There you go with that lovely cockiness again," she replied, laughing nonetheless. "Keep that attitude up, okay? It's just going to make my victory tomorrow all the more sweet."

Tommy chuckled as they walked inside. "So what are you doing tonight? Wanna go grab a drink or something?"

Freezing on the spot, Kim looked to him and said, "Tommy —"

"What?" asked a visibly confused Tommy, who had stopped as well.

"It's just —" started Kim, shaking her head. "Look, I'm not trying to flatter myself here. I know you're just being nice and I don't want to read into this…I've just worked way too hard to get here and I'm not about to screw it up by getting personal. It's not worth it. There's, like, five hundred cops waiting to get into the SRT; five hundred guys just waiting for me to do something that I shouldn't. So, I'm sorry, but the team comes first."

Tommy gave a short, amused laugh and said, "It was just a drink, Kim; nothing more."

With that, he walked away and took the nearest staircase to avoid what was sure to be an awkward, twelve-story elevator ride with Kim. Luckily, he did not run into her at all the rest of the night and, after a hasty shower and change of clothes, he grabbed his duffel bag and headed for the parking lot where, to his surprise, Kim was standing, leaning against the hood of his car in the jeans and soft pink hooded sweatshirt she had had on that afternoon.

"I'll be honest," said Tommy, as he approached her, "You were the last person I was expecting to find waiting for me."

"Yeah, well," said Kim, shrugging, "I'm full of surprises."

Tommy merely nodded as he walked to the back of his Camaro and popped the trunk. "So what can I do for you?" he asked in a very official tone of voice, tossing his duffel bag inside and closing the door.

"You said it was just a drink, right? Nothing more?" said Kim, eyeing him carefully.

"Yep, that's what I said," replied Tommy, with no emotion whatsoever.

For a moment Kim thought he was walking towards her, but then he reached the driver's side door, opened it, and lowered himself into his seat. "Well does the offer still stand?" she questioned, looking at him through the ragtop-less roof.

Tommy shook his head. "Nope," he answered, turning over the rumbling engine. "I wouldn't want to get too personal!" he continued, yelling over the engine's roar. "Especially not after I opened up to you like that!"

With a hurt, destroyed expression, like that of a little girl who had just seen the head ripped off of her favorite doll, Kim stood there stunned, unable to do anything but watch as the Camaro backed out of its spot and drove away. In the end, what could have been a friendly drink with her new teammate turned into her doing what she had put off the night before; finishing her drywall, which she did while looking absolutely miserable the entire time.

But as her head hit the pillow a few hours later, she banished the day's negativity — just as she did each and every night before she went to sleep — with the knowledge that tomorrow was, if nothing else, a new day.

Fortunately, there would be no patrolling, which meant not having to deal with the fact that Tommy had refused to make eye contact with her from the moment they saw each other the following morning. When she arrived in the briefing room a short time later she found that her usual seat next to Jason was open, and that Tommy was now in the back, yucking it up with Adam and Zack and stories about all the things that he had done in Special Forces. It was as though the Tommy she had gotten to know yesterday and the Tommy currently sitting behind her were two entirely different people.

Was that her fault? What if he had simply felt comfortable around her and wanted to open up more? Had her own insecurities pushed him away once more? She was not certain, of course, but she was definitely determined to find out and, if that was the case, do whatever it took to win his trust back.

"You disappeared pretty quick last night," murmured Jason, as they waited for Zeke to arrive.

"Yeah, well, it was damn near midnight by the time we got out of here," said Kim nonchalantly. "I was ready to hit the hay."

Jason eyed her momentarily, prepared to rebut when Zeke entered the room carrying what looked like a sheet of paper. Instead of going to the podium, however, he headed for Jason and Kim's table — the closest to him — and motioned for the team to gather around. As they did so, Tommy made sure that he stayed between Adam and Zack.

"We got a warrant yet?" said Jason, looking at the paper, which was actually a black-and-white photograph of a classily dressed Caucasian male in his late thirties. Since he was the team leader, privy to information that the others on the team received on a need-to-know basis only, Jason had already been informed of what was happening today.

"Not yet," replied Zeke, shaking his head. Setting the picture on the table so the rest of the team could see, he continued, "This is Adrian Alfonso, another lovely drug smuggler who's somehow found a way to clean up after himself just enough to stay out of prison for any significant length of time. But not today…"

"What's the story, Sarge?" asked Billy.

"Jameson isn't saying who their inside man is, but he's been deep undercover for eight months now," explained Zeke, looking at each member of his team to gauge their reactions. What he found was not surprising; they were cool, calm, and collected, just like they always were.

"We sure he's going to be alone?" said Zack.

Zeke shook his head. "We don't move in unless he is, though. And when we do, it's a no-knock deal. It's all about the first three seconds of engagement."

"This is a record breaking score, guys," added Jason, looking at each of them as well. "We have a brief window of time before this stuff hits the street. We lose the element of surprise and we're looking at a whole new rulebook."

"Eight months of prep time," murmured Adam.

"And they get to watch us fly in for the grand finale," said Kim, grinning.

"That's why we get the cool pants," said Jason, to a chorus of laughs that were abruptly interrupted by a female voice over the intercom.

"_Practice area set. We're a-go for simulation."_

"Alright guys," said Zeke. "I know most of you have been through this before, but we're going to run through it again a few more times so Tommy has an idea of what he's getting into out there. Let's gear up and get to work."

From there, the team proceeded to equipment room on the floor above where, as they gathered their gear, Jason explained to them what was going to happen. Soon, they were in the same steel hallway that Tommy had been in the day before, now wearing helmets strapped with night-vision goggles atop them and carrying their firearms.

The team quickly split into two, Jason keeping most everyone behind while Kim and Adam carried full rappelling gear as they crept down the hallway where, at the end, they turned right up a flight of stairs that Tommy had not noticed before. Though he had done much in the way of proving himself, he was still too fresh to be given that much responsibility. Instead, he carried a full body shield that could withstand any projectile weapon short of an explosives launcher, leading the quiet charge towards a wide wooden door as his teammates followed with their guns at the ready.

"Let's make this drill perfect guys; only one shot in real life," said Jason as they stopped in front of the door. "Okay, team, aggressive entry. Our guy's firing. On three; one…two…THREE!" he yelled, kicking the door off the hinges and quickly stepping aside as Tommy rushed ahead with the shield.

They were in what looked like a regular living room, and before Tommy had time to think, a casually dressed Hispanic man was firing bright orange paintballs at the shield. Next moment, the glass ceiling erupted with a bang as Kim and Adam descended on the man from behind, Kim quickly jabbing him in the back with a taser shot that dropped him instantly before she and Adam rappelled back up.

Next moment Jason and Billy were coming around from behind Tommy with their weapons drawn, rushing the Hispanic man while yelling at him to stay down. Moments later, he was cuffed and on his feet. Though they had to wait nearly fifteen minutes for the ceiling to be reloaded after each go, which left plenty of time for recovery, four more run-throughs later and he was starting to look quite tired of being sat on, cuffed, and tased.

"Alright, alright, that's enough," said Zeke as he entered the set-up living room and walked towards the man. "I'm sure our special ops guest will agree that we've covered every eventuality backwards, forwards, and in high heels."

The Hispanic man smiled. "Yeah, well, if your subject can fight these guys off, tell him we need him in Kandahar."

And while no one else seemed to notice, Kim was unable _not _to recognize the brief flicker of pain in Tommy's eyes as he winced at what she knew to be the name of Afghanistan's second largest city. Perhaps that was where it had happened…

"Okay, team; good job," said Zeke. "Now let's go recap in the briefing room while we wait for that warrant."

One by one the team filed out of the training range; as they made their way back downstairs, Jason looked to the Hispanic man on his right and said, "So, you going to be joining us today or what, Rodriguez?"

Laughing, Rodriguez shook his head. "No, my work here is done. Deeds, not words, right Oliver?"

Tommy, who was walking a good ten feet ahead, casually said "That's right," not even looking back as he turned a corner and quickened his pace.

"What's that mean, 'Deeds, not words'?" asked Jason.

"It's a special ops motto," answered Rodriguez, tilting his head towards Tommy up ahead as he went on, "It used to be his motto."

"Right, right," said Jason, nodding. "So how've you been?"

"The sun always shines on Kandahar," said Rodriguez with something of a forced chuckle.

Jason nodded as they neared the dispatch desk, where a young African-American woman in a standard patrol officer's uniform sat with a headset on. "Is that warrant in yet, 'Sha?" he asked.

Behind the desk, Aisha Campbell shook her head and said, "Not yet. Sorry, Jase."

Closing his eyes to prevent himself from rolling them, Jason nodded and then continued down the hallway with Rodriguez, who asked, "So what's the story on this guy, anyway?"

"Name's Adrian Alfonso," answered Jason. "Got a boatload of priors, squeaked his way out of a few homicide charges…he's looking at his third strike today."

"Oh, so he's got nothing to lose," muttered Rodriguez as they came to a stop outside the briefing room.

"The best kind," said Jason, with a smile and tone that was obviously sarcastic. "Still, day's like today —"

"Yeah, they make you feel alive," interjected Rodriguez, nodding. "I know."

"Yeah," said Jason, nodding as well.

After a few beats of silence, Rodriguez looked at Jason carefully. "Look, you know Tommy Oliver was in our unit, right?"

"Yeah," replied Jason, silently wondering why Rodriguez suddenly looked like a little boy hiding something from his parents. "What, something I should know?"

Rodriguez shook his head. "It's not my place to say."

This time, Jason did roll his eyes. "You know I don't do innuendo, Ricky. If you've got something to say about someone on my team, say it."

Rodriguez sighed. "I'm saying it, Jason. Watch your back," he advised, clasping Jason's shoulder briefly as he added, "Good luck today," and then walked away.

"Yeah," said Jason distantly, wondering how seriously he should take Rodriguez's comment. More often than not, speaking ill of a fellow serviceman like that meant one of two things: jealousy, or genuine problems. As he was yet unable to determine which option held true in this situation, Jason simply pushed those thoughts away on a temporary basis as he entered the briefing room and took his usual seat, noting that Kim had yet to arrive and that Tommy was seated alone.

When Kim walked in less than a minute later, she quickly looked between the only two empty seats in the room. Deep down, she wanted nothing more than to sit with Tommy, but knew that he did not want her near him. At least, she _thought_ she knew that.

As had been the case before, Tommy — who had locked eyes with Kim as soon as she had entered the room — was again finding it awfully difficult to stay mad at her; this mostly had to do with the fact that he realized how much he had overreacted almost as soon as he had peeled out of the parking lot last night. It was nothing more than foolish pride that had prevented him from mending the proverbial fence thus far.

Unfortunately, just as Tommy had begun nodding his head towards the seat next to him, Adam burst in behind Kim and immediately headed for Tommy. Sighing inwardly, Kim took the seat next to Jason without displaying even the slightest hint of disappointment, despite the fact that disappointment was all she was feeling at the moment.

Zeke came in just seconds later, though, thankfully giving Kim a reason to divert her attention elsewhere. "Okay, team," began Zeke, from the podium, but just as he did, the same female voice from earlier came over the intercom.

"_Warrant's in. Team One: you're up. You're up!"_

"Well, this was certainly pointless, now wasn't it?" muttered Zeke, chuckling as he shook his head. "Alright, team; you know what to do. Let's keep the peace!"

After gearing up, the team made their way to the garage and began loading their equipment and weapons into the trunks of the black Suburbans. Again, Tommy had attempted to join up with Kim only to be thwarted by Adam and Zack, who quickly rushed him towards their SUV.

As they drove, Jason came over the communications system and said, "Alpha Team, we're switching up. Tommy, you're now three; I'm going to take the lead entry."

Riding shotgun, Tommy looked to Zack, who was driving, with a surprised expression as he replied into his earpiece, "We're changing up the tac plan?"

"Tac plan's a thing of beauty," said Jason simply.

"Why?" questioned Tommy, sounding slightly put off. He had not expected to be on the roof with Kim or Adam, but after what he had done yesterday…well, to him, third in line on an aggressive entry charge was akin to being the last kid picked for dodgeball at recess.

"Because when you're democratically elected team leader you get to make autocratic decisions," answered Jason, in a tone that told Tommy he, Jason, had done enough justification of his decisions.

Unknowingly to Tommy, of course, Rodriguez's parting words to Jason had stuck in the front of his psyche. Though he was not going to write Tommy off as a lost cause, Jason was going to make it very much a baby-step process for the rookie. For Tommy, responsibility was going to have to be earned, not by having success in rappelling contests and training room simulations, but by proving himself in the field.


	3. Rookie Mistakes

_**Title: The Elite**_

_**Chapter Three — Rookie Mistakes**_

_**Original Posting Date: September, 2009**_

--

As the line of Suburbans rolled into an underground parking lot beneath Adrian Alfonso's apartment building a short while later, Tommy could feel his anger with Jason bubbling over by the second. He felt unappreciated…disrespected…

"Alright, we're here," announced Zack, momentarily snapping Tommy from his stupor as they came to a diagonal stop across two different spaces. The only other cars were a pair of gold sedans, one of which had a man leaning against the hood that Zack immediately recognized as Detective Jameson; a young, cocky officer dressed casually in jeans, tee shirt, and jacket.

"Three," muttered Tommy to himself, still in disbelief as he shook his head while climbing out of the vehicle, "Fucking three."

"Let's go, let's go!" yelled Jason, from the front SUV, waving his arm to hurry them up.

As the team scrambled to get their gear, Zeke, who was seated alone in the driver's seat of one of the SUV's, looked out on his team through the windshield and smiled. He then grabbed a laptop from the passenger seat and set it on his lap, flipping it open as the screen flickered to life, revealing electronic blueprints of the apartment building.

"And I've got you on screen," announced Zeke. "Alpha, bravo, proceed," he added, bringing up a black screen that looked like an MS-DOS window. Tapping his earpiece to change frequencies, he started dictating to the computer, his words appearing onscreen as he said, "Eleven-seventeen a.m., elevated risk; narcotics warrant —" He paused momentarily as Detective Jameson climbed into the passenger seat, and then went on, "— underway. Subject: Antonio Alfonso," he finished, switching frequencies again. "Okay team; just like we drilled: secure, enter, arrest."

In a cargo elevator that had just stopped, Zack grinned and muttered, "Floor Five: lady's blouses, perfumes, and fragrances."

This earned him a few laughs, and Jason clapped him on the shoulder. "Way to keep it light, Zack-man," he said with a laugh of his own. Then he turned to Kim and Adam and said, "This is where we leave you."

Giving a joking salute as most of the team stepped off the elevator, Kim waved and said, "Catch ya on the flipside." As the grated door closed and the elevator began to rise once more, she could have sworn that she saw Tommy smile at her, causing her to swallow hard.

Back in the parking garage, Zeke was staring at the blueprint screen, which now housed six orange dots, two of which were moving up, while the other four went right. "Okay, Jason; Adam and Kim are almost to the roof," he said, on a frequency closed to the rest of the team. "You know, I'm good here," he went on, now addressing Detective Jameson. "You want to check if your boys got the outer perimeter secured?"

"Oh, it's secured," replied Jameson, smirking. "I want to make sure your boys get my fifteen kilos out in one piece."

Zeke rolled his eyes. "It's a wonder we can never get along," he countered, with a smile as condescending as the one Jameson had just flashed him.

On the fifth floor, Jason was now leading the quiet charge down the hallway, passing apartment doors on either side. Billy was a few feet behind him, followed by Tommy, and then Zack. "Bravo team?" said Jason, into his earpiece. "Bravo team, what's your status?"

"_Gearing up,"_ answered Kim, the shrill sound of her rope being tightened in the background. _"Give us three and we'll be good to go."_

"You got two," replied Jason, taking one hand off the shield to give a quick wave indicating a left turn to his team as they approached a T-intersection in the hallway.

Downstairs in the SUV, Zeke turned to Jameson and said, "Where's your guy?"

"I don't know," answered Jameson, sounding slightly worried. "He should be here by now."

"Call him," said Zeke. Though Jameson did not like being ordered around, and certainly not by someone like Zeke, he pulled out his phone and quickly dialed a number from memory. In his earpiece, Zeke could hear Jason giving quiet orders to the rest of the team.

"_Bravo team, we're seconds away. Looks good; Alpha team holding. Bravo team, prepare to rappel."_

"_Copy that,"_ replied Kim.

"_Okay. Alpha, bravo, action on my go; three…two…"_

Suddenly, Jameson snapped his phone shut and looked to Zeke. "Williamson is back inside."

"Team, abort immediately; I repeat, abort immediately," ordered Zeke, praying he had gotten the order out in time.

Jason stopped his boot just inches from the door. "Holding," he whispered.

"_Holding,"_ added Kim.

"Team, Jameson's guy is back inside. What's he doing in there?" asked Zeke, to Jameson.

"No idea," said Jameson, shaking his head.

Zeke rolled his eyes. "Bravo team, let's get eyes in there. Pinhole it, Kim; upper right corner of the fifth floor window, three to the left of your immediate position should work."

"Copy," replied Kim, who knelt in front of a black backpack and began shuffling through it. In a matter of moments she had gathered a thin, metal rod that was no more than twelve inches long; a suction cup; and a tiny, round black device just slightly larger than a BB-pellet. She then grabbed the tip of the rod and pulled, causing it to extend nearly four more feet in length; after that, she stuck the suction cup on the end and quickly glued the camera inside the cup.

As she was doing all of this, Billy patched in and said, _"Sarge, who's the inside man?"_

"_A Detective Williamson," _answered Zeke.

"_James Williamson?" _replied Billy, a hint of lingering concern in his voice.

After confirming with Jameson, Zeke returned and said, _"That's the one. Why, do you know him?"_

Billy sighed, sounding quite concerned as he answered, _"Yeah, we partnered in the 21__st__ when we first joined the force; had a barbecue at his house a few weeks ago."_

"Adam, I need you on my ropes," said Kim suddenly, motioning for him to follow as she walked towards the edge of the building.

"You got it," said Adam, nodding, now focused on Kim instead of the conversation in his earpiece.

At the ledge, Kim stepped up and turned so that her back was to the ground. With one hand on her rope and the other holding the rod, she began a slow, step-by-step descent down the east wall of the building. With Adam supporting her, she gave a short push with her feet and swung the rest of the way in. Standing some four feet above the window, Kim had no problem applying the suction cup, and quickly rappelled back up once she was done.

"How's it look, Sarge?" asked Kim, after Adam had helped hoist her back onto the roof.

"_Crystal clear, Kim. Good work,"_ replied Zeke. _"We've got Alfonso…there's Williamson, the undercover guy, and…SHIT!"_

"Sarge?" interjected Jason, having moved his team back around the corner. "What's going on in there?"

"_He's got someone else in there, too,"_ answered Zeke. In the background, Jason could hear him ask Jameson, _"Who's the other guy?"_, but Jameson did not seem to know. _"Okay, we need a new plan of attack, guys. Aggressive entry is no longer an option. Let's make this fast, team; things look like they're heating up in there."_

Unbeknownst to Zeke, a lookout on the ground level had seen Kim and Adam on the roof, and had just called Alfonso — who was now holding the two other men at gunpoint — to inform him of the police presence. From what Zeke could see, Williamson seemed to be trying to talk Alfonso down, while the third presence — a young man who could not have been more than twenty or twenty-one — looked on fearfully. It was enough to tell Zeke that the third man was not a threat, simply a case of someone caught in the wrong place at the wrong time.

Suddenly Williamson and Alfonso were struggling for the gun, tugging back and forth until a loud bang flooded outside the hallway. Jason — who could hear the sound, but could not see who had been shot — waited impatiently for Zeke to confirm what had happened.

"_Officer down, officer down!" _said Zeke. _"Aisha, we need paramedics at nine-sixteen, West Congress Avenue. No sirens; I repeat, no sirens."_

"What are we doing, Boss?" asked Jason, itching to take action. Behind him, Tommy looked ready to bolt.

"_Aisha's getting me a phone number for Alfonso,"_ answered Zeke. _"I'm going to see if I can resolve this before any more blood is shed."_

"Sarge, there's an officer down in there," interjected Tommy desperately. "It sounded like a shotgun blast…"

"_Shotgun blast out of a revolver, actually,"_ said Zeke.

"Not your every day Saturday Evening Special now, is it?" muttered Zack, unknowingly causing Billy to wince.

"_My point exactly,"_ replied Zeke. _"There are two lives at stake here. If we just rush in there, they're both dead. Wait, Aisha's coming through right now. Hold your position and I'll be in touch soon."_

And hold their position they did, waiting for nearly fifteen minutes while Zeke attempted to negotiate with Alfonso. He was trying to get rid of his stash; that much Zeke was sure of, for Zeke could hear the constant sound of a toilet being flushed in the background. The drugs, however, were no longer top priority. In fact, they were the very last thing he was worried about right now.

When Jameson's phone suddenly rang a few moments later, Zeke looked to him to see who it was. "Hello?" answered Jameson. Turning to Zeke, Jameson's eyes narrowed as he covered the phone and muttered, "It's the kid from inside."

Zeke immediately looked to the monitor to see that Williamson and the kid were alone in the main room, which meant Alfonso was still busy flushing his drugs. "Give me the phone," demanded Zeke, practically snatching it from Jameson's hand. "Son, my name is Zeke Ordon and I'm with the police Strategic Response Team. Can you tell me your name?"

"_M-my name is Jesse. Jesse Martin."_

"That's good, kid, that's real good," said Zeke. "My friend in there, the one that's just been shot; how's he doing?"

"_Uh, he's bleeding…a lot…from the stomach. Yeah, he's bleeding pretty bad,"_ replied Jesse, his voice growing frantic as he went on, _"He told me he was a cop when Adrian walked off; dialed this number and gave me his phone. Please, you have to help us."_

"We will, we will," said Zeke reassuringly. "Listen, we're going to get in there as soon as possible, but first I need you to do something for me. I need you to take Detective Williamson and move him away from the window. There's a doorway to the west; we need you two as close as you can get to underneath it. Can you do that for me?"

"_I — I can try. I don't want to hurt him more than he already is."_

"I know, son," said Zeke, as a text message arrived on his phone. Pulling it from his pocket, he read the message as he went on, "But the quicker you can do this, the quicker we can get you guys out of there." He then used what Aisha had sent him via text message as he continued, "Look, I know you got caught up in some trouble with Alfonso before and that you're just trying to make things right now. I can appreciate that, and we're going to do everything we can to get you out of there, okay?"

"_What's going on, Boss?"_ interjected Jason. The entire team — including himself, and Billy in particular — was growing more and more restless with each passing moment.

"We got the kid inside," answered Zeke. "He's going to try and get Williamson out of the way to make room for an explosive entry at the window. Hold on —" he trailed off, looking at the monitor. Jesse had been in the process of slowly dragging Williamson by the legs when Alfonso walked back into the room, pointing his gun at Jesse. "Shit, this isn't looking good. Team, immediate entry and containment, now! Go!"

Before Jason could say anything to his team, Tommy had burst forward and was running back at the door with his gun drawn. "Tommy!" yelled Jason. "Dammit," he hissed. "Let's go!"

Luckily, Tommy had not done anything foolish upon reaching the door. Instead, he stood with his gun aimed at the handled-lock. As soon as he saw Jason coming with the shield, though, Tommy began firing at the lock until it was reduced to pieces and then kicked the door open, stepping aside to grant Jason first entry.

A temporary shootout erupted between Alfonso and the police, until the window behind him suddenly shattered with force as Adam and Kim swung through it, simultaneously kicking Alfonso in the back of the head. In a flash, Jason was on top of the subject and had shield-checked him hard in his back to keep him down.

"Hands!" barked Jason, pressing Alfonso's face into the floor with a forearm at the neck as Billy hurried around with a long zip-tie, which he used to secure Alfonso's hands as tightly behind his back as he could possibly get them. As Billy stood, he jabbed his knee firmly into the small of Alfonso's back while Jason yelled, "Get him up!"

As Zack and Tommy hoisted Alfonso onto his feet, Jason began looking around for the other two men. He ran around a quick corner and found Williamson lying on his back, still breathing; Jesse was on his side, barely moving. Jason arrived at Jesse's side just in time to cradle the young man's head as he took his final breath from a bullet to the chest that had clearly come from Alfonso's gun.

For Jason, who had been an integral part of two deaths in nearly as many days, it was simply too much. Biting back tears and the profound urge to vomit, he ran out of the room, down the stairs, and outside, passing two pairs of stretcher-rolling paramedics on his way. There were quite a few ambulances and police cruisers at the ground level and, for quite awhile, Jason simply paced around between them.

All around him, things were buzzing. Through a side exit, a pair of paramedics came out with Detective Williamson on a stretcher and Billy at his side. "Easy," Billy said to the medics, placing a hand on Williamson's shoulder as he continued, "These guys say you're going to be fine, okay? I'll call Melissa myself — don't worry about a thing. Whoa!" he added, as the paramedics hit a curb that jolted Williamson slightly. "Look, I need to go debrief, but I'm going to come check on you as soon as I can…"

As the paramedics continued towards the ambulance, Billy stopped and looked over his shoulder to see Adrian Alfonso being led out the front door by two uniformed patrol officers, his hands tied firmly behind his back. They locked eyes as Alfonso was led to a squad car; on the verge of being pushed inside, he looked to Billy and smirked, winking.

With anger coursing through his body, Billy took two quick steps towards Alfonso only to be cut off by Zeke, who appeared from around the side of one of the ambulances. "Where are you going, Billy?" asked Zeke, eyeing him carefully.

"I don't know. This whole thing is messed up," answered Billy through gritted teeth as glared at Alfonso, who was now secured in the backseat of the police cruiser.

"I know," said Zeke, nodding. "Come on," he continued, placing his hand on Billy's shoulder as he led him away.

Just a short distance from them was Tommy, who was standing beside one of the ambulances when Jason walked by. "Williamson's going to make it; too bad about the kid," murmured Tommy conversationally, but Jason just kept walking, forcing Tommy to continue, "How else was it going to end?"

Freezing on the spot, Jason whirled around and quickly closed what little distance remained between him and Tommy. "I don't know," he replied angrily, getting in Tommy's face. "I don't know, but that is _not_ your call to make. Maybe I was wrong, Tommy, maybe —" He trailed off, pushing Tommy hard against the ambulance. "But I need to know that my team is on my side out there, dammit!"

Looking absolutely furious, Jason turned and started walking away when Tommy muttered, "Then treat me like I'm on your team."

Jason wheeled around. "What?" he questioned, getting right back in Tommy's face.

The look in Jason's eyes made Tommy smile. "You want to know what happened in Afghanistan?" asked Tommy curiously. "Is that what this is about?" When Jason's face tightened suddenly, Tommy went on, "I was taking out targets in a stronghold fifteen-hundred meters away. The reccy — reconnaissance, I mean — was done; we were cleared to fire. When we went down to do the ID's afterwards —"

Tommy's voice was suddenly full of emotion and his eyes were brimming with tears, both of which he tried desperately to fight as he continued, "— one of them was my buddy Matt. I was sniping with a fifty-cal. He wasn't supposed to be there…I was cleared to fire." At that point, Tommy sighed and shook his head before calmly finishing, "All you had to do was ask."

As Tommy had been speaking — completely unaware that Kim was on the other side of the ambulance, listening to everything — Jason's anger had died significantly, mostly because, in one fell swoop, Tommy had proven him completely wrong in every sense of the word. When Jason replied his tone was still firm, but it lacked the strong hostility it had just been carrying. "Alright, look," he started, "You go in on my command, you stay in entry formation, and you never go in without a shield. Do I make myself clear?"

Tommy nodded. "Yes, sir," he answered.

"Good," said Jason, giving Tommy a half-smile and a pat on the shoulder. "I owe you an apology; I shouldn't have yanked you like that."

Shrugging, Tommy replied, "Yeah, well, bullshit reputations founded on stories that have been passed around like a game of intercontinental Telephone always have a way of getting to the people you don't want them to."

Jason laughed. "I'll take your word for it," he said, shaking his head. Turning around to face his team, he whistled and yelled, "Alright, let's move out, guys!"

Once they had reloaded their gear into the trunks of the Suburbans they were back on the road and en route to the station. Kim, who wanted nothing more than to talk to Tommy, waited patiently as they rode back in separate vehicles and headed upstairs as a team to unload their gear in the equipment room. As she moved around the separate cages, she stopped at the one holding their firearms and looked over her shoulder to find Tommy doing the same thing directly behind her. Their eyes met and Kim smiled softly; to both her great surprise and relief, Tommy returned the gesture.

Unfortunately, she was unable to find a quiet moment to talk to Tommy, for the commotion from the team on the way to the locker rooms was far beyond combatable and — as always seemed to be the case — Tommy was at the center of it. Kim took her time showering and changing, and was already waiting just outside the shared hallway when Billy and Zack came out first. Though it took her much longer to get ready than the guys, she also knew how much time they spent horsing around and whipping each other with towels. More often than not, she was done before all of them.

"Bye, Kim," said Billy.

"Later, Kim," added Zack, flashing a grin.

"Bye, guys," murmured Kim, smiling and waving.

Adam soon followed; Jason was only a minute or two behind him. "Waiting for someone?" asked Jason, smirking.

"Yeah," said Kim, nodding. "We kind of got into it last night and I want to make sure everything's cool."

"Good idea," replied Jason, walking away. "Have a good night, Kim."

"Night, Jase," said Kim, leaning against the wall, staring at the door to the men's locker room with her arms folded across her chest.

Inside the room, Tommy had just finished dressing and was now seated on the bench in front of his open locker. Standing tall as he prepared to close it, his eyes fluttered to the inside of the door and the lone Polaroid taped inside. There were two men in the photograph, one of whom was Tommy, both of them in fatigues with their arms draped around each other's shoulders and wide smiles on their faces as they stood before a backdrop of sandy hills.

Smiling, Tommy touched the picture for a moment and then closed the locker door, grabbing his duffle bag from the floor and making his way out of the room. He was only slightly surprised to see Kim standing outside the door.

Standing a few feet apart as their eyes met, Tommy found himself studying her soft, strikingly beautiful features. Then they smiled at each other and walked off together without a word; there was nothing that could be said that their eyes had not already accounted for. Though neither knew what the other was feeling, both were undeniably at ease amongst one another. It was not until they stepped into the early-evening air and reached the nearly-empty parking lot that Kim looked to him and murmured, "So how about that drink?"

Tommy chuckled and nodded as he replied, "Yeah, I could definitely use a drink."

"Good," said Kim, leaning into him playfully and knocking him sideways a few feet. "Follow me, okay?" she continued as they reached his car.

Tommy simply nodded, hiding the excitement he felt as he settled in behind the wheel of his Camaro, his heart thudding rapidly against his chest. He backed out right after Kim did and followed closely behind her for nearly seven miles, until at last she pulled into a lot housing a single, one-story wooden building, the width and depth of which were roughly five times that of its height.

The parking lot was not very crowded; Tommy quickly maneuvered his car into the open space right of Kim's Jeep and climbed out onto the pavement. Tommy started around towards the driver's side of the truck, and when he heard the door click open, said, "What is this place?"

"The Corner Pocket," answered Kim, smiling. "I thought we could have that drink over a few games of pool, seeing as how we didn't get to have our rematch today and all," she added with a sly wink.

"Pool, huh?" said Tommy, Kim nodding as they started towards the door. "I dunno," he went on. "I've only played a few times…"

Kim rolled her eyes. "Yeah, just like you weren't very good at rappelling either, right?" she laughed, shaking her head. "If nothing else, it'll prove you can take a good old-fashioned ass whooping like a man."

"We'll see, I guess," he replied, stepping forward to open the door for Kim, who looked at him and nodded approvingly as she walked past him.

"Ooh, look at you," she said teasingly, "A gentleman on the SRT? Who'da thunk it?"

Tommy just smiled and shrugged as he followed her inside. Everything in the room — floors, ceilings, walls, tables, chairs, the bar — were all made from the same cut of dark-stained wood, as though someone had taken a pool hall and slammed it together with a mountainside wood cabin.

"I feel like I stepped onto a set from _Little House on the Prairie_ or something," murmured Tommy, Kim giggling slightly as he went on, "I'll get the drinks. What do you want?"

"Stella's fine," answered Kim.

"Wanna just split a pitcher then? 'Cause that's what I'm gonna get too," replied Tommy.

Kim nodded. "Yeah, that's fine. I'll go grab a table in the meantime."

"Cool," said Tommy, flashing Kim a quick smile as she turned and headed for the back of the building. Stepping up to the bar, he waited a few minutes for a bartender, ordered and paid for a pitcher of Stella Artois, and then followed after Kim with two glasses in hand.

She had found an open table in the back right corner of the room and had already racked the balls for a game of 8-Ball. Tommy walked past the table, to a counter against the wall with a few barstools beneath it, and set the pitcher and glasses atop it. He then poured two glasses, one of which he offered to Kim while simultaneously raising his own.

"What are we toasting to?" asked Kim, touching her glass against Tommy's and holding it there.

Tommy smiled. "To new experiences," he answered.

"To new experiences," murmured Kim, grinning at Tommy as they each took a drink. "Alright, let's get this game going!" she exclaimed, setting her glass on the counter.

"Alright," said Tommy, depositing his glass alongside Kim's as he moved to pick out a cue stick from a nearby rack. "Lag for break?" he asked upon returning.

"Sure," said Kim, nodding as she took the cue ball, positioned it at the back-left side of the table and gently shot it long-ways to the other side. It hit the rail and bounced back, ending about four inches from rail opposite where she stood.

Tommy then proceeded to follow with a much harder shot that saw the cue ball ricochet and end up between the two side pockets. "Looks like it's your break," he said with a smile.

"Yep," replied Kim, who leveled a powerful break that knocked in three striped balls and two solids. In three minute's time she had ran the table on him completely, never missing a shot. When she turned around, Tommy was leaning against the back counter, drinking his beer and looking quite bored. "Sorry about that," she said with a sheepish smile.

Tommy chuckled. "It's gonna be a long night." Three games later, the pitcher of beer was finished and Tommy had taken a total of five shots the entire time. "Alright," he said, shaking his head as he returned his cue stick to the rack. "I'm done with pool. It's obvious I'm no match for the great Kim Hart."

Kim smiled and shook her head. "Fine," she replied, placing her stick back on the rack.

"You okay to drive?" asked Tommy, leaning against the counter.

"Yeah," said Kim, nodding.

"Okay," murmured Tommy, nodding as well. "Come on, I'll walk you to your car."

Walking quite close to each other, no more than an inch of space between them, Tommy and Kim made their way outside. It was now dark out, fairly chilly, and as soon as they reached the Jeep, Kim popped open the rear driver's side door, grabbed a black jacket from atop the bench seat, and pulled it on. She did not, however, make any signs of wanting to leave.

Instead, she made her way to the back of the Jeep, took hold of the handlebar next to the mounted spare tire, and swung the door out, taking a seat with her back to the bench. There was enough space for one more person next to her, and though she did not outwardly say it, Tommy somehow knew that she wanted him to join her.

So he did, and soon they were simply sitting there, chatting casually and laughing about things that had absolutely nothing to do with work. All the while, nothing but conflicting thoughts raced across Tommy's mind. Part of him desperately wanted to test the proverbial waters, but another part of him was consciously aware of the risks that came with breaching that line between professional and personal.

When a short silence had befallen, Kim looked to Tommy and murmured, "I heard what you said to Jason down there. Why didn't you tell me?"

"What, that I killed one of my best friends?" replied Tommy with an indignant scoff. "Come on, Kim; the only reason I told Jason was to get him off my back. Even though I know it wasn't my fault, I'm not proud of what I did. For weeks, I couldn't sleep…all I could see was Matt, lying on the ground, covered in blood and machine gun wounds. As I'm sure you can imagine, it's not the type of thing _anyone_ would want to talk about."

Kim nodded, acting strictly on impulse as she reached out and took his hand. Looking him right in the eyes, she smiled ever so softly and whispered, "I'm so sorry, Tommy."

"Yeah, me too," said Tommy distantly, feeling his heartbeat quickening once more.

For a few moments, silence lapsed again. Then Tommy, in a sudden burst of bravery, took the hand holding his, and while maintaining his grip, adjusted his arm so that it fell around Kim's shoulder, pulling her against his side for what he intended to be just a brief hug. But as Kim wrapped her arms around his waist it became apparent rather quickly that neither had any intentions of letting go.

With her head resting against his shoulder, Kim closed her eyes and allowed herself to relax despite the nagging voice in the back of her head telling her that, if she continued like this, it was sure to only be a matter of time before she and Tommy reached the point of no return.

"Hey, Kim?" he said softly.

"Hmm?" murmured Kim, her eyes slowly fluttering open to meet his, in expectance of a verbal reply that never came.

Instead, the only sound was that of her own muffled surprise when Tommy suddenly kissed her. It was just a short, sweet kiss, but as he pulled back, Tommy looked down at her while silently wondering whether or not he had gone too far. His answer came just seconds later, though, when Kim took his face in her hands and returned the kiss, this time with a fierce passion that Tommy's own kiss had not contained.

Only when the need to breathe became too great did the kiss break; even then, their lips hovered just inches apart, Tommy's forehead resting against Kim's. Then she turned her head, forcing Tommy to sit back and smile at the way she blushed.

"Do you have any idea how much trouble we'd be in if Jason or Zeke caught us?" murmured Kim, staring away from Tommy and into her Jeep, grinning despite herself even as that nagging voice in the back of her head returned in full force to tell her what a hugely terrible mistake she was making.

"Then let's not get caught," replied Tommy, taking her chin and turning her head towards him with another of his skip-a-beat smiles.

There it was. He had laid the ball in her court; where they went from here was entirely up to her.

Silently, with no expression of emotion whatsoever, Kim rose to her feet and began walking towards the driver's door, leaving Tommy sitting there with a look somewhere in between amused and confused. "Where are you going?" he asked.

"Home," answered Kim, not even sparing a look over her shoulder.

"Oh," said Tommy, realization dawning as he slowly stood up from his seat. "So, uh, so I guess I'll see you tomorrow at work then?"

Upon reaching her door, Kim grabbed the handle and, finally, looked back at him. "Only if that's what you want," she replied with a wink, opening the door and climbing inside. She then unrolled her window and extended her arm, holding up the electronic clicker so that Tommy could see her press the unlock button. When she stuck her head out the window to see his reaction, however, he was not there. Then the front passenger door clicked open and she spun in her seat to find a grinning Tommy halfway in the Jeep.

Apparently he had gotten the message.

"What about my car?" Tommy asked as he settled into his seat.

"It's safe here," replied Kim, backing her Jeep out of its parking space. "I'll bring you back for it in the morning." Tommy merely smiled and nodded; as they hit the road, Kim turned to him and continued, "You were right about one thing, you know."

Tommy chuckled. "Just one?" he questioned, Kim nodding. "And what would that be?"

Kim smirked. "It's gonna be a long night."

--

When the first light of morning hit him square in the face through a nearby window, Tommy groaned and rolled over in bed, squeezing his eyes shut even tighter than they already were. As a smile crossed his face, he reached out for Kim only to have his arm flop against the mattress.

His eyes opened instantly. Much to his disappointment, Kim was not there.

Sitting up against the headboard, he peered around and got his first good look at her bedroom. By the time they had made it into her room last night neither had been too concerned with turning on any lights. What he saw as he looked about was not at all what he expected from someone like Kim; or at least not the Kim he had gotten to know these last few days.

The walls were a soft shade of pink and a rocking chair in a corner was piled with different stuffed animals; in the opposite corner was an acoustic guitar; and beneath the flat-screen television mounted on the wall across from her bed was an entertainment system that housed both a PlayStation 3 and an XBOX 360. It was as though her entire room was one giant contrasting statement, which made him laugh as he climbed out of bed and dressed in his clothes from the night before.

The digital clock on her nightstand read just short of seven a.m., which he reasoned should have been plenty of time to: get back to his car; drive home; clean up; and get to work by their nine-thirty call time. Seeing an adjacent, closed door with a light on and figuring that Kim was probably in the bathroom, he approached the door and gave a quiet knock, but not before retrieving his handy tin of Altoids from his jeans and popping two of the curiously strong mints.

"Decent," said Kim.

Tommy furrowed his brow. That she was dressed had been the least of his concerns, especially considering he had already seen everything she had to offer, including the butterfly entwined in tribal bands that spread across the small of her back.

Truthfully, he had just not wanted to walk in on her using the toilet.

Pushing the door open, he walked inside to find Kim standing at the far end of a long counter with a double sink, applying a thin layer of mascara as she looked at her reflection in the mounted mirror. She was already dressed, wearing a just-shorter-than-knee-length denim skirt, brown leather cowboy boots, and a navy blue, long-sleeved shirt that was buttoned to below her chest, though she also had on a white panel underneath for modesty purposes.

Even though she was not all dolled-up and flashing skin at every opportunity, Tommy still found her amazingly sexy. Walking towards her, he murmured, "Good morning."

"Morning," said Kim, turning her head to face him with a smile. When he tried for a kiss, however, she shunned him with her cheek.

Tommy chuckled. "What, afraid of a little morning breath?" he asked teasingly.

But Kim did not seem humored in the slightest. Looking away momentarily, she sighed and then quickly returned her eyes to him. "Tommy, look; what happened last night, it —" she started, shaking her head. "Great as it was, it can't happen again. We stay on this path and it's only a matter of time before Jason or Zeke find out. I'm sorry, I just can't chance —"

"Kim —" Tommy tried softly, reaching for her hand, which Kim pulled away from him almost instantly.

"No, Tommy, that's it," she said firmly, wearing an expression that conveyed nothing but the utmost seriousness. "We can still be friends; we can still go out for drinks and all that stuff, but this…it can't happen again. I'm sorry, but the team has to come first."

Although this was certainly not what he wanted to hear at all, part of him was consciously aware that her reaction to what had happened last night was not at all surprising. In fact, he was more surprised that it had even happened at all.

With a sigh of his own, he nodded and said, "I understand."

"Good," replied Kim, returning her attention to the mirror to apply a few final strokes of mascara. When she was done, she returned her makeup to the medicine chest next to the sink, looked to Tommy, and said, "Come on, I'll drive you to your car."

Neither spoke during what turned out to be an incredibly awkward ride back to the pool hall, and when Kim parked next to Tommy's Camaro and said, "See you at work, okay?", she received only a single nod as Tommy hopped out of the Jeep and climbed into his car. So fast was he to pull out that he did not see the tears brimming in Kim's eyes, nor the pained expression on her face as she watched him drive away in her rearview mirror.

"You made the right decision, Kim," she murmured to herself, swallowing hard as her mind tried to convince her heart that her words were true. "You made the right decision," she repeated, saying it over and over, as though repetition of those five simple words would somehow aid the convincing process.

But it didn't. It only made the hurt worse.

Luckily, the normalcy with which Tommy treated her over the next few days eventually started to put her at ease, at least temporarily. He did not seem bitter or angry with her; in fact, nothing had changed at all on the work front. He treated her the same way post-sex that he had treated her pre-sex; just like one of the guys.

What she did not realize was that, by doing so, what Tommy was actually doing was putting more and more distance between Kim and himself. Sure, they laughed and joked like always, but they did not speak of what happened to Tommy in Afghanistan; there were no discussions of fears; no late night conversations sitting on the back of her Jeep; none of the things she wanted.

In one well orchestrated, three day long endeavor, Tommy had done to her what she had done to all the other guys on the team; he had turned her into a sibling.

And she hated it.

Oh God, how she hated it once she realized what was taking place right underneath her nose.

But what could she do? Her mind was such a mess; the only thing she knew for certain was that she could _not_ risk her job for him. No matter how badly she wanted him, it simply was not worth it. She could control what happened at work; a relationship, though? She would not put her job on the line for something she could not control, something that could be gone at any moment Tommy chose to end it.

These were the thoughts that plagued her mind, and continued to do so nearly a week after the fact as she sat in the briefing room on the following Tuesday, listening to Zeke tell them what the day's plan was, barring any emergency calls, of course.

For Kim, that meant getting on her knees alongside Adam in the open lot behind the station late that afternoon. They wore civilian clothes and had their hands behind their heads; Jason and Zack were standing behind them, wearing ski masks and pointing unloaded weapons at the backs of their heads. Tommy was in full uniform, as were Zeke and Billy behind him, the latter of whom was holding a leather binder open and taking notes.

This was Tommy's first attempt at negotiating a hostage situation.

Staged though the scene was, it had been set to look as real as was possible, with police cruisers and black Suburbans surrounding them on all sides to create something of a makeshift perimeter. As Adam and Kim acted out their pleas for help — quite poorly, from an acting standpoint — Zack cocked the hammer of his gun back hard, pressed it against Adam's head, and then erupted into a performance worthy of an Academy Award.

"Why should I, huh?" demanded Zack, glaring at Tommy standing some fifteen feet away. "What do I got to lose here?"

"Look," started Tommy, holding up his hands defensively, looking very much out of place. "It's obvious you're very upset —"

"You're damn straight, I am!" yelled Zack.

"I-I hear what you're saying, and —" tried Tommy.

"Stay in control," said Billy, jotting down something in the binder. "Remember, this is your negotiation, not theirs."

Tommy looked at Billy and nodded his head once before returning his attention back to Jason and Zack as he said, "Okay, guys; so what do we need to do here to resolve this so that we can all go home?"

"You can give us what we want!" barked Jason.

"I'd like to try," said Tommy as calmly as he could manage.

"You know what I want? You know what I really want? I want some coke," said Zack, playing his part perfectly even as Jason fought to suppress a grin beside him, a grin that was caused as much by Zack's performance as it was by Tommy's flustered reaction to Zack. "Yeah, that's right," he continued, jabbing Adam once more, "I want some coke. You get me an ounce or this is over!"

Tommy again looked back at Zeke and Billy, not sure what to do. In the meantime, Jason, Zack, and Adam — who was already tired of being prodded with Zack's pistol — began yelling agitatedly at him, while Kim scrunched her face up as though all the loudness was going to give her an instant migraine.

"He hears what I'm saying, but he's not doing nothing about it!" said Zack, to Jason.

"That's 'cause he's a lying fucking pig!" shouted Jason angrily, snapping Tommy back to attention.

"I-I'm not a liar, guys," said Tommy, feeling more and more uncomfortable by the second.

"Don't argue with them," Zeke interjected quietly. "Just get them back."

Taking a deep breath, Tommy tried again. "Okay, you guys are obviously very upset—"

"Yes, yes we are!" said Zack. "You know what that means?"

"You know," interrupted Kim, sounding none too thrilled with her current position, "I really would appreciate it if a police officer would negotiate us to safety."

"Come on, Tommy, just talk to them," said Zeke encouragingly.

Tommy, however, just looked around like a lost puppy dog.

"DO YOU KNOW WHAT I WANT?" roared Zack.

At that moment, Tommy lost patience and, with a roll of his eyes, answered, "I'm not giving you cocaine, you jackass!"

"Bang! Bang!" said Jason as he pulled the trigger on Adam and Kim.

Frustrated, Tommy started to walk away, but not before catching Adam say to Kim, "Jackass? Did he really just call a suspect jackass?" Kim's giggle in the background only served to make Tommy feel worse about himself and his performance. He was used to being one of- if not _the_ best at everything he did. When it came to negotiating, however, he felt like someone who had never played golf trying to compete in the United States Open; absolutely hopeless.

Across from the hostage, Zeke and Billy shared a knowing laugh. "Alright, Tommy, let's talk this through," Zeke called out after him.

Still walking away, Tommy held up his hands and exasperatedly replied, "Just give me a minute, Sarge."

After two additional runs and only slightly more success — in the end, Adam and Kim still would up dead both times — Zeke sent an even angrier and more frustrated Tommy back inside to cool down. "Go in my office and take fifteen," Zeke had said calmly. "I'll be in there shortly."

When the fifteen minute mark hit, Zeke gave Tommy an extra five and then headed back inside after a quick debrief with the rest of the team. Zeke walked into his office to find Tommy seated at a large, round conference table, pouring over a few pages of notes that Billy had given him. Actually, it was more like agonizing over them.

"Long way from Kandahar, isn't it?" muttered Zeke, as he walked around to the other side of the table. He remained standing, though, setting down the binder Billy had been writing in earlier as he rested his hands on the edge of the wooden surface.

Tommy shrugged, still staring at his notes as he replied, "I was doing everything right, wasn't I? Mirroring, emotional labeling, eye messaging…everything in the book; I just —"

"Need to listen?" said Zeke softly, Tommy finally looking up. "Look, you can kick ass like nobody's business and you look great in the cool pants, but as long as you're out there and trying to talk to somebody, you've _gotta_ be able to listen. You've _gotta_ be able to connect."

"I know, okay," said Tommy, shaking his head. "It's just —"

"How do I connect to the bad guys when I've spent eight years shooting at them?" interjected Zeke knowingly.

Tommy looked like he was going to nod for a moment, but then changed his mind and shrugged as he replied, "I just need to finish this review."

"No, you need time," said Zeke, walking back around to Tommy's side. "Field training, a little patience…k?" he continued, patting Tommy on the shoulder as he walked away. "Remember, you've got the cool pants down. Now all that you need to do is listen."

Tommy let out a sigh and hung his head, gripping the bridge of his nose as his eyes fell shut.

If only Zeke knew how hard of a task that was for Tommy to actually do…

After a few more minutes spent combing through Billy's review of his epic failure, Tommy rose to his feet and stacked up the paperwork, depositing it into a manila envelope that he placed inside his locker once he had made it back to the locker room. He was on the verge of exiting the room when Jason walked in and nodded towards him.

"Hey," said Jason.

"Hey," muttered Tommy, pretending to be occupied with something in his locker.

"How's it going?" asked Jason, walking towards him.

"Fine," answered Tommy, his head still in his locker, "You?"

"Can't complain," said Jason, standing at Tommy's side with his arms folded across his chest. He had only heard three words and had not even seen Tommy's face, but Jason was still able to read Tommy like a book. "Look, man," he went on, "I know what you're going through out there. Trying to negotiate someone who's ready and willing to take someone else's life…it's the hardest part of what we do. Unfortunately, it's also one of the most necessary parts of what we do.

"Still, you've got plenty of time to figure it out. It's not like Zeke or I are going to throw you out there tomorrow morning and expect you to talk down some crazed guy with a gun and three hostages, so don't beat yourself up over this stuff, okay? It was your first whack at it and trust me; no one ever gets it right their first time. I must have let a dozen 'hostages' die before things started to click in my head. It just takes time and practice, that's all. It'll all make sense soon, Tommy, I promise."

Tommy chuckled and closed his locker door, turning to address Jason. "Yeah, well, when you've spent your entire adult life shooting first and asking questions later…it's tough."

"I know it is," said Jason, nodding. "Come on," he continued, patting Tommy on the back. "Its workout time and then, afterwards, we're all going out for dinner and drinks."

"Alright," said Tommy, nodding as well. "Just let me change and I'll be right out."

"Sure," replied Jason, as Tommy popped open his locker. Before, Tommy had been blocking Jason's view, but now Jason could clearly see the single photograph taped to the inside of the door. "Is that him?" he asked.

"Who?" asked Tommy; he was standing half bent over his locker as he searched around the bottom for his workout shorts.

"In the picture," murmured Jason. "Is that your friend Matt?"

Next moment was a loud clang as Tommy, who had temporarily forgotten that he was practically all the way inside a locker, bolted upright and slammed the top of his head hard on the metal ceiling. "Ah, son of a bitch!" he exclaimed, holding onto his head as he carefully pulled his body out of the locker.

"You alright, man?" asked Jason, desperately resisting the urge to laugh.

"Yeah, I'm fine," muttered Tommy, gingerly rubbing the top of his head. "And yeah, that's him. That was, uh, about four months or so before it all went down; I think it might have been my birthday, actually."

Jason nodded. "I'm sorry that happened to you," he replied softly, as Tommy began to change. "When you told me the other day, I — I didn't know what to think. I still don't know what to say other than it fucking sucks."

Tommy laughed. "Yeah, it definitely fucking sucks," he said, shaking his head for a moment before pulling his tank top on. "But it is what it is," he continued, sitting down on the wooden bench behind him to tie his black tennis shoes. "Besides, I've learned to deal with people not knowing what to say. Hell, I don't think I'd know what to say if the shoe was on the other foot. People want to tell you that they understand your pain, what you're going through…it's all bullshit if you ask me."

"_That_ I can attest to," said Jason, with a laugh of his own. "No one can ever tell _you_ how _you_ feel, or how to feel, or what to feel, or when to feel it. Now, if you can take that knowledge and apply it to your negotiation technique, I guarantee you that you'll see a huge change in success. You have to realize that no two people we deal with out there are ever the same; you might think they are, but they're not. That's why you have to listen, so you can understand who these people are and what needs to be done to resolve the situation."

"Yeah," said Tommy, nodding, not really knowing what else to say to that. "So, uh, let's get that workout in, yeah?"

Jason merely nodded and allowed Tommy to lead the way to the gym. "So, Kim tells me you practice martial arts…"

"Yep," said Tommy over his shoulder.

"Wanna do a bit of sparring?" asked Jason.

"You practice?" questioned Tommy, his interest peaked enough to slow down and allow Jason to catch up.

"Yep," replied Jason, nodding. "For the last eighteen years of my life; got my fifth-degree in Tae Kwon Do; how 'bout you?"

"_Nanadan,_" said Tommy, in Japanese, "Shotokan."

"Seventh-degree?" said Jason in surprise as Tommy nodded his confirmation. "Jesus, where'd you find the time to get there when you were in the military?"

Tommy shrugged. "I wasn't always mobilized, but I was always practicing," he answered, "At least an hour each day, more if I had the time. I love it, man. It helps me take my mind off shit, you know what I mean?"

"Absolutely," said Jason, nodding again, "So, you up for it or what?"

"Uh, yeah, sure, why not?" replied Tommy, shrugging.

"Cool," said Jason, leading Tommy to some open mats on the left side of the gym used primarily for ground workouts.

Before stepping onto the mats, Tommy kicked off his shoes — followed by Jason — and began to stretch. Walking on the stair-stepper at the back of the room, a slightly confused Kim looked to Zack, who was running on a nearby elliptical machine, and said, "What are they doing?"

Zack shrugged. "Looks like Jason finally found someone willing to get their ass kicked after a decade of looking," he answered with a laugh.

"Hmm," replied Kim thoughtfully, watching Tommy as he sat down and extended his legs, reaching out to touch his toes.

After about five minutes of stretching, Jason looked to Tommy and said, "You ready?"

"Yep," said Tommy, who had been lying on his back, pulling his knee as close to his face as possible. Releasing his leg and setting it flat, he rolled back so that his butt was in the air and did a quick kip-up onto his feet.

"Show off," muttered Jason, chuckling as he and Tommy took their positions across from each other and bowed.

That every member of the SRT immediately stopped what they were doing as soon as Jason and Tommy began to spar was no surprise. Even Zeke, who had been walking towards the locker rooms when he saw the pair from the corner of his eye, stopped and approached the mats to watch Jason and Tommy go at it.

Much to the surprise of the team, though, Jason did not dominate Tommy as they had been expecting, mostly because none of them had ever seen Tommy fight before. His punches and kicks were faster than anything they had ever seen from Jason; his timing was impeccable; and only twice in twenty minutes worth of sparring did Jason take him down. Jason, however, spent quite a bit of time staring at the ceiling from his back.

By the time they were done, everyone else was crowded around the mats watching. At one point, Zack had gone downstairs, and when he returned it was with dozens of officers, all of whom were eager to see what Zack had described as, "Jason meeting his match." In reality, though, Jason was no match for Tommy; not on the karate mats, at least.

"Damn, bro," said a flat-on-his-back and exhausted Jason, as Tommy helped him up and onto his feet. "I don't think we'll be doing that for awhile."

Tommy started to laugh, but just as he did so, an alarm began to wail.


	4. Learn To Fly

_**Title: The Elite**_

_**Chapter Four — Learn to Fly**_

_**Original Posting Date: September 27, 2009**_

--

Fifteen minutes later the team was in full uniform and seated in the briefing room in their usual seats while they waited for Zeke, who was currently on the phone with the first responding officer at…well, wherever they _would be_ going once Zeke told them what was going on.

When Zeke walked in shortly thereafter, the team — all of whom had been looking quite bored — immediately sprung to attention as Zeke headed for the podium. Resting on the podium was a small remote control for the projector. With two quick clicks the projector came to life, displaying an image of the Galleria Mall at Angel Grove Point on the white curtain behind him.

"What're we looking at here, Sarge?" asked Kim, tapping the butt-end of her pen against the table.

"The usual accurate reporting_,"_ said Zeke, an air of sarcasm in his tone as he went on, "One suspect with a gun; one suspect with a bomb; an army of terrorists with nuclear warheads. You know how it is."

Serious though the situation was, it was impossible for anyone in the room — including Zeke himself — not to laugh at that. Even Tommy, who had only been on the team for a week, was already beginning to understand how oft unreliable civilian 911 calls were in emergency situations such as these.

"So what are you thinking?" asked Adam, once the laughter had died down.

"It's the mall, Adam," replied Zeke matter-of-factly. "Who knows what the situation is? It's impossible to say at this point. All we know is shots have been fired, a young girl is down, and there's mass panic inside. The uni's have the place locked down; still, we're walking into a powder keg here."

"Should be fun, eh?" said Tommy, grinning towards Kim, who had looked back at him with a chiding smile.

"It always is," replied Zeke, who then looked towards Jason and said, "Ninja teams."

"Suspects identified?" asked Jason, to Zeke.

Zeke shook his head. "That would make things easy, Jase."

Rolling his eyes, Jason nodded and said, "Alright, let's run it off. Assuming suspects remain unidentified upon our arrival we'll be splitting in pairs and searching for anyone who hasn't been accounted for. The uni's should have rounded everybody up, but there's bound to be people that have slipped through the cracks and are hiding in toilets and dressing rooms. Teams: Adam, you and Zack will take the top floor; Billy and I will take the bottom; Kim, you and Tommy will be searching both floors of the three major department stores east, west, and north."

"Perfect," said Kim, smiling. "I've been meaning to do some wardrobe replenishing."

Sitting behind her, Zack balled up a piece of binder paper and tossed it at the back of her head. He laughed hysterically when she grabbed her head in surprise, and his laughter only grew more wild after she had turned around and glowered at him with a look that would have made most men fear for the safety of their…well, you know.

"Okay, if we're done acting like third graders," interjected Zeke, everything else coming to an instant halt as he nodded and continued, "Let's go keep the peace."

Exiting the room in a single file line, the team headed straight for the equipment room. In a blaze of rapid efficiency they quickly gathered their gear and then made their way down to the garage. As they entered the garage, Kim looked back at Tommy and said, "We'll ride together since we're teamed up."

Tommy merely nodded and followed Kim towards one of the Suburbans, resisting the urge to ask why Jason was riding with Zack and Zeke, and Adam with Billy. In silence they loaded their gear into the trunk of the SUV. As soon as Tommy was finished, he walked around to the front passenger side and hopped in.

For nearly two minutes he sat there waiting, looking straight out the windshield the entire time. Then there was a knock at his window that directed his attention to Kim, who was standing outside his door while dangling a key ring on her finger. Furrowing his brow in confusion, Tommy pushed the door open and asked, "What are you doing?"

With a smile, Kim shrugged and said, "Thought you might want to drive."

Raising an eyebrow, Tommy eyed her curiously, as though expecting her at any moment to declare that she had been joking, but she never did. Realizing this, Tommy's lips slowly curved into a wide grin as he jumped out and grabbed the keys, running around to the driver's side as fast as he could, just in case she decided to change her mind.

"Thanks," said Tommy, smiling towards Kim as he turned the key in the ignition.

"You're welcome," said Kim, returning the smile and pulling on her seatbelt while Tommy slowly maneuvered the Suburban into the line exiting the garage.

"_Okay, guys," _said Zeke over the team's radio frequency a few minutes later. _"It's rush hour so let's avoid the freeways. I just got finished with the first responding officer. They've got uni's currently searching all of the restrooms and changing rooms for any leftovers, so we're going to switch things up a bit. Billy, you and Jason are going to take the upper-west side of the mall; Adam, you and Zack will go same side, first floor; Kim, you and Tommy are going to have Sears and JCPenney's."_

"_Got it,"_ replied Adam, Billy, and Kim nearly simultaneously.

After some ten minutes of navigating Angel Grove they were pulling into the mall parking lot, stopping alongside the curb in front of the main entrance. Seconds later they were out of the SUV's and gathering up their gear. Once they had finished, in two lines of three — partners next to partners, with Zeke leading the charge — the team started towards the mall.

"Alright, guys," said Zeke, looking back over each of his shoulders. "Once inside, I'm meeting with the first responding at the east end of the mall. That's where they've gathered everybody up and it's where I'm going to set up command post. From there, we'll break into tac teams and start the search. I'll be updating you guys with any extra information we can gather, and I expect you to do the same with me. Clear?"

A chorus of "Yes, sir's" followed as the team approached the entrance, walking through a set of electronically controlled double doors that opened automatically for them. Even when walking, their mere presence instantly demanded respect: their feet hit the floor in near unison; their assault rifles were all carried at the exact same seventy-five degree angles across their chests; and their faces all displayed the same blank, emotionless expression.

Upon reaching the lower-east side of the mall, Zeke looked around at the uniformed patrol officers and said, "Who's first responding?" Immediately, a young blonde woman no more than twenty-two years of age raised her hand and began walking towards Zeke, who then turned to his team and added, "Move out, guys. I'll keep you posted."

That said, the team split into their pairs and took off running to their various destinations. No sooner had Billy and Jason entered a shoe store than Zeke was in their ear. _"Okay, guys; first responding has just informed me that the injured party has a gang tattoo on her arm. We could be looking at possible rival gangs here. Be prepared…if you find someone hiding there's a good chance they may be armed."_

"Copy," replied Jason, his finger to his ear as he looked to Billy and said, "You get that?"

"Yep," answered Billy, nodding as they split up to search the store with their guns now held in ready positions, fingers on their triggers. Alas, they found nothing in this particular shop, and soon had moved on to the next.

On the far end of the west side, Tommy was currently moving through rows of home appliances in the Sears' second floor, his gun also trained to fire. Now that he was away from the team, however, his expression had lost its stern look. He looked distracted.

Tapping his ear, he patched into a direct frequency with Kim, who was currently searching the downstairs area of the massive department store. "Found anything yet?" he asked.

"_A bed that's on sale that I _will_ be coming back for,"_ said Kim. _"Nothing important, though."_

Tommy chuckled. "I liked your bed" followed, flying from his mouth before he could stop himself. While looking quite mad at himself — and not really knowing what else to say at this point — he continued on through the store as Kim sighed in his ear.

"_Tommy —"_ she started, but nothing else came.

Thinking she was probably feeling the exact same way in the sense that she did not know what to say either, Tommy decided to let the conversation fall by the wayside as his search waged on. But then, nearly two minutes later…

"_Tommy, get down here now!"_

"What? Why?" said Tommy, his finger at his ear as he looked around for the nearest escalator, which he immediately started towards as he added, "Did you find something?"

"_Yeah, get your ass down here! Hurry!" _exclaimed Kim.

"Alright, I'm on my way," said Tommy, who began sprinting as fast as he could in full uniform. "Where are you at?"

"_Women's bathroom; southwest side in between shoes and fragrances,"_ she answered.

Running down the escalator, Tommy hit the floor and kept his legs pumping until he saw the large sign that said "RESTROOMS" with an arrow pointing down. Once there, he found Kim exactly where she said she would be, looking down on a mess of blonde hair and spattered blood.

"You think it's from the girl who got shot?" asked Tommy, standing at her side.

Kim shook her head. "I just talked to Zeke," she replied. "The girl that was shot is a brunette. I — I don't think this was gang on gang."

"What are you thinking then?" questioned Tommy.

"I'm not sure," answered Kim, shrugging as she began a slow turn to see if she had missed anything.

"What about an initiation gone wrong?" asked Tommy with a rather thoughtful expression.

"Doubtful," said Kim, shaking her head. "The blood stains are all over, but there's no trail out of here. Whoever this girl is, she struggled. On top of that, she must have been smart enough to cover up whatever wound she had, because the blood stops here. I think whoever it was, was targeted by this gang for some reason. Maybe someone in the gang was armed and this girl fought back, grabbed the gun, and shot one of the other gang members…"

Tommy seemed to think about that momentarily and then nodded as he replied, "Yeah, that's not a bad theory at all. We need to find out who this other girl is, though; and then we can start tying things together for real."

"Definitely," murmured Kim, nodding as well as she patched over to Zeke and said, "The uni's had to have searched this place, right? I mean, isn't this where the gang girl was shot?"

"_I was just saying the same thing to the first responding," _started Zeke, a few seconds later. _"Apparently, there was such a mass panic when it first went down, they didn't have enough bodies to search the place after they'd gotten the girl out."_

Kim rolled her eyes. "Reason number eight-hundred and seventy-three why we're in the SRT and they're not," she muttered, both Tommy and Zeke chuckling quietly as Kim went on, "Listen, Sarge, we need everything we can get on this blonde girl. Tommy and I both think figuring out who she is will be the key to figuring out what's really going on here."

"_Agreed," _said Zeke. _"I've got Aisha narrowing down a list of mall employees scheduled to work today that haven't been accounted for yet. You'll be the first to know after me."_

"Copy," replied Kim, tapping the bud in her right ear to end the transmission. Slowly, she turned around to Tommy and smiled mischievously as she said, "Now that that's out of the way —"

She took a step towards Tommy, who lit up like a seventeen year-old kid on prom night that had just found out he was getting some. Next moment, however, he was groaning in pain and holding his bicep area, the victim of a dead arm from a punch that Tommy never could have imagined coming from someone who was as small as Kim.

"Jesus, Kim, what the hell was that for?" said Tommy indignantly.

"For saying stupid shit on a com-line that can be tapped into by anyone on the team at any moment they want," answered Kim. "I'm telling you, Tommy, if I lose this job because you can't keep your mouth shut…"

Tommy held up his hands defensively and interjected, "Alright, alright, I get it. I'm sorry. It was an accident. I didn't mean to say it, it just…slipped, I guess."

Sighing, Kim nodded and firmly said, "Don't let it happen again or you'll never get to make another mistake like that the rest of your life, if you catch my drift." Just in case he did not understand, she then made a cutthroat motion towards an area that made Tommy fear for the safety of his head; just not the one on his neck.

Luckily, Zeke was in their ears again before Tommy even had to think about a retort. _"Okay, guys, Aisha just got back to me. She thinks the girl is Daphne Browning: works in a jewelry store on the second floor; hasn't been accounted for; and, oh yeah, two months ago she called rape on the leader of the same gang that the injured girl is in. Sounds like a little gang retribution if you ask me."_

Kim looked to Tommy, both of them nodding simultaneously as Kim asked Zeke, "What happened with the rape?"

"_Guy's girlfriend and two of her friends swear they were with him when Daphne says it happened, which means I doubt Daphne is lying to us. Look, guys, this girl is going to be scared out of her mind. She got jumped in a bathroom, probably thought she was going to die, shot another person, and is now hiding somewhere in a mall filled with cops. Let's make sure this thing doesn't get any uglier than it already is. I'm going to have Aisha pull a cell phone number and then I'm going to try and make contact. Until then, just keep searching…"_

Across the mall, Adam and Zack were currently exploring a surf-and-skate type clothing store on the second floor with their guns at the ready, one of the last remaining shops after having perused nearly the entire upper-west side. Adam was walking along a row of tee shirts on either side of him when something to his right caught his eye. A wall-display of hooded sweatshirts had moved; he was almost certain of it.

Touching his ear, he whispered, "Zack, you left, right, or back?"

"Left, why?" answered Zack, who was creeping through a section of women's jeans and tee shirts on the other side of the store.

"I think I may have found something," said Adam, as he crept to the end of the row and turned right. "Get ready to take the door." Approaching the line of sweatshirts, he turned right again just in time to see a brunette girl in her late teens sprinting around the corner at the other end of the row. "Zack, door, now!" barked Adam, giving chase.

Zack made it to the door in time to stop her, but was forced to dive aside when the girl pulled a pistol from inside her jacket and fired a single shot at him. Adam stopped just long enough to help Zack up and then they were running after her.

"Shots fired! Shots fired!" yelled Adam, to the entire team. "Suspect is running southeast on the second floor! I have the solution! Repeat; I have the solution!"

"_Zack's with you, right?"_ said Jason.

"Yeah, I'm here," answered Zack. "Let me guess; less lethal?"

Jason chuckled. _"You got it buddy. This girl is going to have useful information; we need her alive if at all possible."_

"_If she escalates again, though," _interjected Zeke, _"Take the Dragon."_

"Copy that," replied Adam, watching the girl turn right, towards the wide entrance into Sears. As he and Zack continued running after her, Adam tapped his ear and said, "Kim, girl's on the top floor, moving towards Sears. Can you try and head her off?"

"Yep," answered Kim, who was still standing next to Tommy in the bathroom. Tapping his shoulder, she jerked her head towards the door and took off running with Tommy right behind her. "Adam, eyes?" she then asked.

"_Uh, moving towards electronics, it looks like."_

"On it," said Kim.

With a panic stricken look on her face, the young girl entered Sears and looked around frantically, turning back momentarily to see Adam and Zack gaining ground rapidly. She could feel her heart pounding against her chest as she took off running again, heading towards a row of televisions on the other side of the store.

Once she was there, she quickly found a hiding place and crouched down low, immediately pulling out a cell phone from her jeans pocket. She was midway through dialing a number when she felt a tap on her shoulder and, startled, whirled around just in time to see the butt of Kim's rifle swinging right for the side of her head.

When she came to several minutes later, she was seated with her back against a steel railing. Blinking herself back into consciousness, she then noticed the SRT gathered near an escalator some thirty feet away. As though he had sensed her wake, Zeke turned around, saw that she was up, and started walking towards her with the rest of the team right behind him.

Of course, she promptly tried to get away only to discover that her hands had been zip-tied firmly around the base of the cemented rail. Zeke smirked at her failed attempt at to escape, earning an enraged glower from her in return.

"Well that's not very nice, now is it?" said Zeke, lowering himself into a crouch in front of the girl. "Why don't you tell us what's going on here?"

"Why don't you go to hell?" replied the girl.

Zeke chuckled. "Trust me, after what you did to Daphne, you'll be there before I will. Now why don't you save us all a lot of hassle and tell us what this is all about."

"Go fuck yourself, pig!" said the girl, spitting right in Zeke's face.

A visibly angry Tommy took a step forward in the pack, but was quickly grabbed and held back by Kim and Zack. Zeke, however, merely laughed again as he wiped his face on his sleeve. "That was cute," he said, smiling in a way that could only be described as condescending. "See, what you did right there, that wasn't very smart. Not only have you spit in my face, but you're also looking at three attempted murder charges; it's going to be a long time before you see your Cobra friends again. The way I see it, you've got one of two choices here. You can either: keep going like this and spend the next thirty to forty years of your life behind bars as a result; or you can tell us what you know and we'll see what we can do for you. The choice is yours."

"You don't understand," muttered the girl through gritted teeth. "They'll kill me if I talk to you."

"We can offer you protection if necessary," said Zeke calmly. "Just tell us what's going on."

Looking as though it was the most painful thing she had ever done, the girl began to speak. "We were just gonna rough her up a little bit; teach her not to tell things that ain't true, you know? She was cryin' like all hell, swearin' she wasn't lyin' 'bout Derek raping her when we knew that she was."

Zeke quickly interjected. "Were you really with him when Daphne says he raped her? Remember, lying to us isn't going to bode well for your future, but the truth shall set you free."

The girl rolled her eyes. "Alright, so maybe I wasn't there, alright? Big deal. I know Derek and he'd never rape nobody."

"Oh, but he'd kill —" started Tommy, falling silent when Zeke's hand went up.

"Moving on," said Zeke, to the girl.

"Anyways," she started, glaring at Tommy momentarily before shifting her attention back to Zeke. "She started fighting back; Trisha, the one that got shot, pulled her gun out. I don't know how it happened, but that Daphne bitch got a hold of the gun, shot Trisha, and then took off running with the gun."

"Is there anyone else here, or just you two?"

"Just —" she began, but Zeke eyed her hard, causing her to sigh. "Jen's here too."

"Does Jen have a last name?" asked Zeke.

She nodded and muttered, "Amos."

"Good, very good," said Zeke, turning away with his finger to his ear. "Aisha, I need you to run a check on the name Jennifer Amos; mid-to-late teens, I'd say. Get me a phone number if you can."

"_On it,"_ replied Aisha, the sound of her keyboard clicking audible in the background.

Zeke then turned to Billy and said, "I need you to set up a post in one of the trucks outside. Be ready to trace a call."

"Sir," replied Billy, nodding once before turning and running.

"The rest of you," continued Zeke. "We're going individually now. We've got officers at every exit in the mall. There's no way Jen or Daphne got out of here." He then proceeded to watch his team as they stood around looking aimless. Rolling his eyes, Zeke barked, "Find them!"

All at once, Zeke's intentions set in and the majority of the team then turned to Jason expectantly. "Tommy, top west; Zack, top east," started Jason. "Kim, bottom west; Adam, bottom east. I'll take Macy's," he continued, looking to Zeke, "Let's get some uni's on this as well. We're already spreading ourselves thin as it is."

Zeke nodded and then motioned for his team to go, which they did immediately. And though he went without question, internally Tommy's mind was spinning. Something just did not seem right. After searching a record store, a toy store, and a joke shop, he was in a shoe store when that something suddenly clicked, for seemingly no reason at all.

"Sarge," said Tommy, his finger at his ear, "I think we're looking in the wrong direction here."

"_What do you mean, Tommy?"_

"Well —" started Tommy, trailing off with what was obviously tentativeness. He was still new and very much worried that he would say something completely stupid; or, even worse, something completely stupid that Zeke went along with.

"_Look, son, if you've got something to say, say it. I'll be the one who decides whether it's stupid or not,"_ said Zeke, as though he had read Tommy's mind.

With a burst of confidence, Tommy nodded to himself and said, "We went through something like this rounding up a village in Kandahar. What if these girls aren't hiding in one of the stores? What if they're hiding in the crowd somewhere by you? I know the uni's quarantined everyone, but I think it's possible at least one of those girls could have slipped through the cracks when the crowd was being searched. What we need to do is start getting people out. Set up identification checkpoints at two exits and only let them out through those two. Profile the people on their way out and ID if they match either girl's description. If we still haven't found them at that point, I doubt we ever will."

After a few seconds worth of silent pondering, Zeke replied, _"You know, I think that might be our best shot at this. I'm gonna have you and Kim man the southwest exit; Adam and Zack will take southeast. Get back here immediately. Good work, Tommy."_

Tommy ran back to the quarantined area with one of the biggest smiles that he had worn since he had joined the SRT. Finally, he was starting to feel like he was actually contributing something to the team beyond being just a body to fill an empty spot.

Ten minutes later Tommy and Kim were standing in front of the southwest exit; two of the three sets of electronic doors had been disabled, leaving only the middle doors active, which was where two lines of people, each nearly one-hundred and fifty bodies deep, stood waiting to be cleared to leave.

One by one the civilians made their way through the line, Tommy and Kim stopping only the teenage girls who matched the description of Daphne and Jen; unfortunately, in a crowded mall during the evening, young blonde and brunette girls — all they had to go off of — were plentiful, causing for a rather slow progression of the line.

Tommy had just finished checking another driver's license when his eyes flickered up to the line and met those of a brunette girl in a green hooded sweatshirt. She looked nervous, but as Tommy slowly turned to Kim to say something, the girl spun around and took off running, colliding with enough people to cause a stir that immediately grabbed Tommy and Kim's attention.

"Shit," said Tommy, who then looked to Kim and added, "Stay here and make sure no one gets out."

That being said, he started sprinting after the girl with his weapon drawn. Moving in tunnel-vision, he could faintly hear the sound of the crowd as he ran, rapidly gaining ground on the girl until at last he caught up to her, wrapped his arms around her waist, and tackled her to the ground in front of a cell phone store.

"Bad idea," he grunted, quickly zip-tying her hands before padding her down. Grabbing her fallen purse, he found a handgun and a wallet, both of which he pulled out. Setting the gun aside, he opened the wallet and grinned; the California Driver's License in front read Jennifer Amos, age seventeen. Touching his ear, he said, "We've got Jen, Sarge."

"_Good work, Tommy,"_ Zeke replied. _"I'm sending uni's over to take her and the other one to the station and I've got Aisha searching for a cell number for Daphne with Billy on stand-by to trace. When the uni's get there I want you back with Kim. Daphne's the one I'm most concerned with finding here. I'm going to see if Dr. Kwan's available to visit the Browning household as well; maybe we'll find something there."_

"Copy that," said Tommy, hoisting a vehemently-cursing Jen onto her feet as four uniformed patrol officers turned a corner and started walking towards him.

"We didn't do nothing," muttered Jen bitterly.

"Anything; you didn't do _anything_," corrected Tommy, smirking with his gun trained at her chest as the patrol officers approached. Pushing Jen towards one of the officers, Tommy retrieved Jen's gun from the linoleum floor and handed it off to another officer. "Take this to forensics and bag her hands for residue," he ordered, leaving to rejoin Kim.

--

Unbeknownst to most everyone in the mall, it had started raining outside, much to Dr. Kwan's dismay as she navigated the streets of Angel Grove in a Lexus SUV, attempting to contend with not only the weather, but evening traffic as well. She had left her downtown office immediately after receiving Zeke's call, and was now en route to Daphne's home.

Trini, who had grown up in Angel Grove, knew exactly where the neighborhood was, and upon arriving she exited her car with a yellow umbrella and started towards the house with obvious cautiousness. The Blackburn District of the city — notorious for its gang violence, prostitution, and drug use — was comprised mostly of housing projects, and Trini was in the heart of it.

As she moved along the sidewalk, checking addresses on the row of two-story brick buildings that all looked the same, she suddenly froze, looking at a house that she instantly knew to be Daphne's; not because of the gilded numbers mounted outside, but because of the slew of graffiti adorning the building. Spray-painted words like _BITCH, SLUT,_ and_ LIAR_ seemed to be the more popular choices.

Though she had never met Daphne before, Trini's heart went out to the girl as she shook her head and walked towards the door. Ascending the small stone staircase leading to the door, she reached back to knock when a deep voice behind her said, "Can I help you?"

Jumping where she stood, Trini whirled around to find an older, balding gentleman standing on the sidewalk, wearing a hooded raincoat that had been pulled to cover most of his head.

"That depends who you are," replied Trini tentatively. "My name's Dr. Kwan. I'm a forensic psychologist and I'm looking for a Rebecca Browning…"

The older man chortled. "You're better off looking at the bar. What'd she do?"

"Nothing," said Trini, shaking her head. "It's her daughter."

"Daphne?" said the man, clearly surprised as Trini nodded. "She's not in any trouble, is she?"

"I'm not sure," answered Trini vaguely. "Do you know Daphne?"

"Sure, sure," said the man, nodding. "I'm Allen, the housing manager, known Daphne since she was seven years old. Good kid, that girl; keeps to herself for the most part, trying to do the right thing, you know? It's tough when you gotta grow up here, though," he continued, indicating the graffiti-covered building with a wide sweep of his arm. "All the hassle she's been through…poor girl would've been better off just keeping quiet, if you ask me."

Suppressing the urge to roll her eyes, Trini said, "Can you let me in? I'm on police business and you can confirm it by calling nine-seven —"

"Lady, lady," interjected Allen, waving his hands dramatically. Shaking his head, he started towards Trini and reached into his pocket as he continued, "I don't need to verify nothing. Just step aside so I can let you in."

Trini — slightly surprised at the lack of effort it had taken to induce his cooperation — merely nodded and murmured her thanks as she moved out of the way. Allen then unlocked the door and pushed it open, leading her into a darkened hallway. He fumbled around for a few moments before finding a light.

There was not much to say about the hall. The walls were a depressing shade of grey, with only two doors on the wall opposite where Trini stood about fifteen feet apart from each other.

"That's it," said Allen, pointing towards the door on the right, which he then approached and unlocked, hitting the light switch to reveal a long, narrow staircase heading up. "Come on, I'll take you up."

What Trini found upstairs was startling. She had not been expecting much for a home in the Blackburn District and got even less. The living room and kitchen were an absolute mess, littered with dirty laundry, open containers of half-eaten food and drinks, and many pill and alcohol bottles both empty and full.

"You wanna see the bedrooms?" asked Allen, Trini nodding.

As they walked to the hallway on the other side of the living room, Trini asked, "Do you know what happened to Daphne's father?"

"She don't really talk about him much," said Allen, shaking his head. "All's I know is he died in a car accident when she was little, before she moved here. What's going on with Daphne?"

Trini sighed. "Like I said before, I'm not sure. That's why I need to take a look around, to see if there's anything I can find to give us an idea of what's happening."

Allen grumbled something that sounded like "okay" as he led Trini into the hallway, to a door on the right. This was the mother's room, which looked very much like the living room and kitchen. Daphne's room, however, was a completely different story.

Trini had never before seen such a stark contrast. Where everything else was dilapidated and messy, Daphne's room was absolutely immaculate in every sense. Pulling out her cell phone from her purse, Trini quickly dialed Zeke's number to relay this information.

Shortly thereafter, Zeke was speaking with his team. At the exit they were currently manning, Tommy and Kim temporarily put the progression of the line on hold to listen in. _"Alright, guys, I just got off the phone with Dr. Kwan. It looks like this girl comes from a pretty messed up household, but all signs point to her making every effort to hold it together. Wait —"_ he added suddenly. _"Aisha's coming through right now."_

After several minutes of waiting, Zeke came back. _"Okay, Daphne just used her phone. I've got Billy running a trace right now. Stand-by for further instructions."_

No sooner had he said the words than a middle-aged Korean-American woman stepped out of the line and started walking towards Tommy and Kim, looking quite anxious. "Ma'am," said Tommy, holding up a hand, "I understand that everyone is in a hurry, but I need you to —"

"No, no, you don't understand," she interjected. "There's a girl…she works for me…her name's Daphne Browning and I think she might be in trouble. She just called me and —"

"Boss," said Tommy, to Zeke. "We have the person Daphne called."

"_She's in Macy's; west end, second floor by the look of it. You and Kim are closest. Get there!"_

"Copy," murmured Tommy, who then looked to Kim to see if she had heard. Kim simply nodded as Tommy looked towards a pair of nearby patrol officers and yelled, "No one in, no one out, is that understood?"

Neither he nor Kim gave the officers any time to answer, though, for next moment they were running as fast as they possibly could towards the department store. Once in the store, Tommy looked around and pointed towards the west side of the store, to a sign that read _Dressing Rooms._

One by one Tommy opened each dressing room door and then quickly stepped aside, Kim standing to his left with her gun aimed inside the rooms. Still, they found nothing. Finally, at the last door, Tommy looked at Kim and gave her a look as though to say they were running out of options. Kim simply nodded, keeping her gun trained as Tommy popped open the door and moved out of the way once more.

"Jackpot," muttered Kim, stepping inside the small space as Tommy followed after her. On the bench adjacent a tall mirror was a handgun. Scooping it up, she patched over to Zeke and said, "I found the thirty-eight, but no sign of the girl."

Tommy then cleared his throat and, once he had Kim's attention, pointed above her head. Kim turned around to find that he was pointing at an open ventilation grate. "Ten will get you one she went through there," he said softly.

Kim rolled her eyes, but nodded nonetheless. "And I'm going to be the only one on the team small enough to fit through there."

Tommy smiled. "C'mon, I'll give you a boost."

Taking Kim's rifle, Tommy set it aside and interlocked his fingers as he lowered himself into a crouch. Kim then set her right foot in Tommy's hands and allowed him to lift her up just enough for her to crawl into the duct.

"Gun," said Kim, but Tommy was already handing it to her. Grumbling a few choice curse words, she took the gun, turned around, and began crawling through the duct on her hands and knees. Behind her, she could faintly hear Tommy telling Zeke what was going on.

For his part, Tommy had turned around and was running back towards the command post Zeke had established. "Can Billy run schematics on the mall and see where Kim's heading?"

"_It goes to the media tower,"_ answered Zeke, who was currently looking at electronic blueprints of the mall on his laptop. _"We're looking at nineteen, twenty stories if they go to the top. Start going northeast; I'm going to have the team meet up with you on the way there."_

"On it," said Tommy, taking off running for what felt like the hundredth time so far today.

When Kim finally emerged on the second level of the media tower — a giant steel structure with a large satellite dish on top — it was nearly five minutes later, the rain had ceased, and it was dark outside, but the mall and surrounding city provided her enough light to see Daphne running up a staircase on the other side of the tower. If Daphne was still this close, Kim knew that she and Tommy had to have just missed her in the fitting rooms.

"Boss, she's running," said Kim, as she gave chase. "Daphne, wait! Stop!" she shouted uselessly.

"Go away!" yelled Daphne, forcing herself to run faster.

By the time Kim had made it to the top level, Daphne was standing on the other side of a guardrail, holding on with both arms stretched out behind her as she looked down on the scene at the ground level.

"She's on a ledge," murmured Kim, to Zeke.

"_Kim, don't go one-on-one if she's armed."_

Kim, however, could not tell whether Daphne had a gun or not. Luckily, Tommy was on the ground, looking up at the scene through a pair of high-powered binoculars. "No visible weapon," said Tommy. "Just a girl," he added, "And the pavement about two hundred feet below."

Ignoring the latter part of Tommy's comment, Kim kept a close eye on Daphne as she waited on Zeke's instructions. At first, the young girl just appeared frightened, but with each passing moment Daphne began looking more and more like she was going to jump. Kim, who was already visibly concerned, felt her emotions increase much like Daphne's.

"_Are you ready to do some intervention, Kim?"_

"Copy," said Kim, nodding to herself as she set her rifle on the concrete floor.

"_Okay, remember, we're dealing with a rape victim here. She was beaten in retaliation for going to the police. She's got no home support, but from what Dr. Kwan says, she was holding on. She was doing everything she could to keep her life together. Alright? I'm here if you need me."_

With a deep breath, Kim took a few short steps forward and called out, "Daphne?" Kim paused as Daphne turned around, but when the young girl simply looked away, Kim went on. "Daphne, my name is Kim. Look, I know you don't want to talk to me, and you totally don't have to, but I would really, really appreciate it if you did. I'm not here to hurt you, I'm here to help."

On the ledge, Daphne gave a shiver, her teeth chattering quietly. Kim then said, "I'm going to step closer so you can hear me better." Holding onto a side-rail, Kim slowly stepped towards Daphne and said, "I'm moving closer, okay?"

Daphne merely nodded.

"Good," said Kim, smiling. "So…thanks for not jumping. Are you thinking you might?"

Looking over her shoulder, Daphne nodded again as tears began threatening to fall.

"I'm sorry to hear that. You know, I've never seen someone willing to die put up such an incredible fight to stay alive," replied Kim, Daphne whimpering and shaking as Kim started moving closer to the ledge again. "Can you tell me what happened today with those girls?"

Sniffling, Daphne shook her head. "Why don't you ask them?"

Stopping just long enough to secure her rappel rope around the side-rail with a large metal clamp, Kim continued towards Daphne and said, "They gave you quite the haircut in there today, didn't they?"

Daphne nodded, holding on for dear life, her mind and body overcome with emotion as Kim carefully climbed over the guardrail. "I —" started Daphne. "I thought they were going to kill me."

"I know," said Kim, nodding. "I know. You were really scared, weren't you?"

"They think I lied to the cops," muttered Daphne, suddenly losing control of her emotions as tears began to fall. "About Jen's boyfriend…about what he did to me —"

"But you didn't, did you?" replied Kim. "You _didn't_, and that's what's important."

"It doesn't matter," said Daphne, shaking her head. "It doesn't matter anymore."

"Daphne, it does matter. It _does_," said Kim firmly. "Do you have any idea how brave what you did is? You told the truth. You stood up to that guy. _You_ _fought back_; same with those girls today. Come on, Daphne, stay with me. Stay with me."

For a few seconds Daphne simply stood there, at times looking like she desperately wanted to believe what Kim was saying. "I — I killed a girl today."

"_Negative,"_ said Zeke, who could hear everything that was being said through Kim's earpiece. _"The girl's in surgery; she's going to be okay."_

"No, you didn't," said Kim, to Daphne, shaking her head. "You didn't kill anyone. The doctors are fixing her right now. She's going to be okay. Now, please, Daphne, will you give me your hand so I can help you back over?"

"I can't," said Daphne, crying harder now. "I can't, I can't; I'm dead anyways."

"Daphne, I know that it feels that way. I know, but you're not," said Kim. "You're not."

Daphne shook her head. "It is; it's just how it is. I can't go to school; I can't go to work; I can't go home. For what? My mom? I've got nobody! I have nobody! You don't understand! You just don't get how it is!"

"Okay, you know what? I do," replied Kim. "I _do_ get it. I've been where you've been. I know what it feels like to think the whole world's against you, that there's nowhere for you to go but down. That's why I'm here. That's why I'm standing _right here_ with you, because I know what you're going through. Please, I want you to take my hand and I want to help you over. And you're going to get through this. It might feel impossible right now, but you have the rest of your life ahead of you, okay? It's going to be tough, I won't lie, but it's also going to be really, really amazing. You've already come so far…if you can get through this, you can get through anything in the world, I promise."

And then Daphne was no longer crying. Instead she was looking at Kim with a sense of clarity that had not been there before, like she had finally realized what she was doing and how stupid it seemed.

"Will you give me your hand? Give me your hand," continued Kim, slowly turning and reaching out to Daphne. "Come on, Daphne. Come on. It's okay."

Sniffling again, Daphne nodded and began to turn towards Kim. All it took, however, was a slight slip of her foot on the wet ledge to send Daphne falling over, screaming louder than anything Kim had ever heard before.

With no hesitation whatsoever, Kim grabbed hold of Daphne's arms and was pulled off the ledge as a result. Still, she maintained her grip, hugging Daphne tightly against her chest as the rappel rope jerked and left them suspended some one-hundred and fifty feet above ground, their momentum causing them to swing backwards while Kim's back slammed violently into the steel media tower.

"KIM!"

Groaning, Kim looked up to see Jason and Adam standing on the other side of the guardrail, Jason holding onto her rope as tightly as he possibly could.

"We're okay! I got her!" yelled Kim, unaware that they had been behind her, but immensely thankful that they were.

Jason nodded. "Kim caught her," he said to Zeke. "We're pulling her up now."

--

Nearly two hours later, after a long debriefing session with Zeke and a few higher-ups, Kim was outside and making her way through rows of ambulances, police cruisers, and Suburbans, clearly in search of something. It did not take long for her to find what she was looking for; a some_one,_ as it was. Next to one of the ambulances was Daphne, seated on a padded stretcher, wrapped in a blanket, and nursing a Styrofoam cup of steaming coffee.

"Hey," murmured Kim, stopping a few feet away.

Daphne looked at her and smiled; and though she looked like she wanted to speak, she did not say anything for quite some time. Finally, she softly asked, "Why did you do that for me?"

"Because I don't give up without a fight," said Kim, smiling as well. "Just like you."

Nodding, Daphne replied, "I'm really sorry I put you through all this."

"Don't be, okay?" said Kim, laying a comforting hand on Daphne's shoulder as two paramedics approached from behind. "These guys are going to fix you all up."

"Thanks," said Daphne, flashing another smile.

Kim merely returned the gesture with a nod and then turned away, smiling even brighter as she started walking to rejoin her team. They were all standing in a cluster about a hundred yards away; Kim had barely made it halfway there when Tommy's head turned towards her, their eyes meeting as Kim found herself on the receiving end of another of his skip-a-beat smiles.

She had not seen one of those for over a week. That it still had the same effect…well, that was another story entirely.

By the time they had made it back to the station it was nearly sunrise. Kim, who had just gotten out of the shower, was standing in front of one of the mirrors in her locker room, her body wrapped in a towel as she peered over her shoulder at the bruises that covered the upper-left part of her back.

"Hey, Kim," said Tommy, walking in and causing Kim to whirl around in surprise. Realizing what he had walked in on, Tommy quickly looked away. Still, the image he had just seen remained at the forefront of his thoughts.

Even in her current state, fresh out of the shower with no makeup and her hair wet and matted down, Tommy still found her to be beautiful in ways he could not readily explain. That he managed to stay looking away was a minor miracle in and of itself.

"Uh, welcome," said Kim, rolling the top of the towel to keep it tight while sounding a bit perturbed that he had just walked in like that.

"Sorry; I, uh, I knocked," murmured Tommy, picking up something from the counter just so he was occupied. "Is this a curling iron?" he asked, finally looking at Kim again as he held the device up curiously.

"_Tommy —"_ started Kim impatiently.

Smiling softly towards her, Tommy nodded and said, "Sorry, I just — I wanted to say…nice save out there. I didn't know you could fly," he half-chuckled. For a moment, Kim looked like she wanted to smile only to nod emotionlessly, forcing Tommy to continue, "It was, uh…it was a long four seconds before we knew you were okay."

"And I'm okay," replied Kim.

"You smashed hard against the side of that tower," said Tommy, his tone quiet and concerned.

"And I'm okay," repeated Kim, with more inflection this time.

"Do you want a second opinion?" he questioned softly.

Kim refrained from answering Tommy's question, but instead silently weighed her options while resisting the urge to smile at him. As much as her mind tried to fight her on it, her body desperately longed to feel Tommy's touch once more. The way he had held her in his arms that night…she had never wanted to leave his embrace.

Slowly, Kim turned around and folded her arms across the counter in a gesture that Tommy understood immediately. Stepping forward, he gently ran the back of his hand over her array of bruises, causing her entire body to tremble incredibly, even at just the slightest of touches.

"How does it look?" asked Kim, looking at Tommy over her shoulder.

"Like a double bacon burger," he answered with a chuckle, much to Kim's amusement.

"Thanks a lot," she replied, laughing even as she rolled her eyes dramatically.

"Hey, any time. That's what I'm here for," said Tommy, smiling at her as she turned back around. "So, listen, we're going to the diner to grab some breakfast. You hungry?" Kim was on the verge of answering when the cell phone on the counter started to ring loudly. "You can bring, uh —" continued Tommy, trying to see the name on the caller ID.

Kim, who had accidentally let it slip earlier in the week that she had gone on a date that weekend, quickly scooped up her phone and replied, "Scott."

"Right, Scott," said Tommy, nodding once before turning away, steadfastly refusing to let Kim see how miserable the mere thought of her with another man actually made him feel.

Kim ignored her phone's ring, though, grinning at Tommy's back as she watched him go, waiting until he had almost reached the door before calling out after him. Stopping at once, Tommy abruptly turned around to face Kim as she said, "Are you riding with Adam?"

"Minivan express," said Tommy, nodding again.

"Will you save me a seat?" asked Kim.

Tommy did not answer, but simply smiled towards her, turned around, and walked away.

Kim waited for him to leave — grinning the whole time — and then looked herself hard in the mirror for quite a long while, silently wondering whether or not she had acted too hastily in calling things off with Tommy.

--


End file.
